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SELECTIONS 
FOR MEMORIZING 

COMPLETE 
Books One, Two and Three 

Required for the First Eight Years of Elementary Schools 
BV the Education Department of New York State 



Compiled and Edited by 

AVERY WARNER SKINNER 

Inspector of Schools, Education Department of 
New York State 




SILVER, BURDETT AND COMPANY 

Boston New York Chicago 



Copyright, 1911., 
By Silver, Burdett and Compant 



Gift ,^T 



PUBLISHERS' NOTE 

The poems in "Selections for Memorizing" are those 
authorized by the Education Department of the State 
of New York in its syllabus for elementary schools. 
The reyision of this syllabus, published in 1910, neces- 
sitated the reyision of the original edition of "Selec- 
tions for ^Memorizing" to include the new material. 

In addition to the selections for memorizing, the new 
edition now includes the poems designated for apprecia- 
tiye reading in English in seyenth and eighth years, and 
the shorter history poems suggested for collateral read- 
ing in the fifth to eighth years. 

In order that this material may be ayailable in the 
most conyenient and economical form for pupils' use, 
it is published in a three book series, as follows: 

Book One. Selections for Memorizing, First, Second, 
Third and Fourth Years. 

Book Two. Selections for Memorizing and History Selec- 
tions for Collateral Reading, Fifth and Sixth Years. 

Book Three. Selections for Memorizing, Poems for Ap- 
preciative Reading and History Poems for Collateral 
Reading, Seventh and Eighth Years. 

In connection with the poems for appreciative reading 
in Book Three there are also sufficient notes to guide 
the pupil to a careful study of these poems in preparing 
for the elementary English examinations of the eighth 
year. For the assistance of the teacher, topics for 
composition, based on these selections, have also been 
given. 



575811 



4 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 

In addition to the regular edition the entire contents 
of the three books are also published in a single volume, 
for the convenience of those teachers who wish all the 
material. 

The poems prescribed by the Education Department 
have been chosen after a careful and exhaustive ex- 
amination of the best courses of study in the schools 
of this and other states. It is believed that this grouping 
of these poems in a single series is exceedingly desirable 
as it offers to teacher and pupil, in permanent and 
accessible form, the material for the required work in 
English and also the shorter selections suggested for 
reading in connection with the study of history in the 
grades. 

The right to use the copyrighted material contained 
in this volume has been obtained through purchase or 
through the courtesy of authors or publishers. 

The selections from the writings of Bayard Taylor, 
Frank Dempster Sherman, Thomas Bailey Aldrich, 
Oliver Wendell Holmes, Bjornstjerne Bjornson, Henry 
Wadsworth Longfellow, Lucy Larcom, Alice Gary, John 
Greenleaf Whittier, James Russell Lowell, Ralph Waldo 
Emerson, and Margaret Vandergrift are used by per- 
mission of, and special arrangement with, Houghton, 
Mifflin Company. 

The copyrighted selections from the^ writings of 
Eugene Field, Robert Louis Stevenson, Henry van Dyke, 
and Henry Cuyler Bunner are used through the courtesy 
of, and by special arrangement w^ith, the publishers of 
the works of these authors, Charles Scribner's Sons. 

We are permitted also, by the kindness of the pub- 
lishing houses mentioned below, to use the following 
selections : ' ' The Wonderful World, " by William Brighty 
Rands (John Lane Companv); "Oh Little Town of 
Bethlehem," by Phillips Brooks (E. P. Dutton & Com- 



publishers' note 



pany); "The Blue Jay" and "July," by Susan Hartley 
Swett (Dana, Estes & Company); "Sheridan's Ride," 
by T. Buchanan Read (J. B. Lippincott Company); 
"Scythe Song," by Andrew Lang (Longmans, Green 
& Company); "Columbus," by Joaquin Miller (The 
Whitaker & Ray Company); Selections from "My 
Study Fire," by Hamilton Wright Mabie (Dodd, ]Mead 
& Company); "October's Bright Blue Weather" and 
"September," by Helen Hunt Jackson (Little, Brown, 
& Company); "Old Glory," by James Whitcomb Riley 
(The Bobbs-Merrill Company); "Bobolink," by Chnton 
Scollard; the "Battle Hymn of the Republic," by 
Julia Ward Howe (Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Company) ; 
"Robert of Lincoln," bv William Cullen Brvant 
(D. Appleton & Company); "O Captain! My Captain!" 
by Walt Wliitman (David ^McKay). 

We are also under deep obligations to Mr. Henry 
Holcomb Bennett for permission to use "The Flag 
Goes By;" to Mrs. Emily Huntington Miller for 
"The Bluebird;" to Mrs. Lionel S. ^Nlarks (Josephine 
Preston Peabody) for "Making a House" and "The 
Journey;" to Mr. Chnton Scollard for " Fraidie-Cat " 
and "Jim Crow;" to Mr. Edwin Markham for 
" Lincoln, The Man of the People," which was originally 
entitled, "Lincoln, the Great Commoner;" and to Mr. 
Thomas Bailey Aldrich for " ]Marjorie's Almanac," 
published by Houghton JNIifflin Company. 

For valuable assistance in the preparation of the 
notes that accompany the Poems for Appreciative 
Reading in Book Three, thanks are hereby rendered to 
Mrs. Emogene Sanford Simons, of Albany, N. Y. 



TO THE TEACHER 

In teaching children how to read and what to read, it 
seems necessary to say that there must be an appreciation 
of good hterature on the part of the teacher. This does 
not mean that she must of necessity be a hterary critic, 
or even very widely read, but it is of the greatest im- 
portance that she be well grounded in the few great 
books of all generations, capable of a wise discrimination 
between the good and the bad in literature and able to 
bring to her class a love of good books and a heart 
touched and inspired by a comradeship with the great 
minds of the ages. 

Ruskin well says: "Will you go and gossip with your 
housemaid or with vour stable-bov, when vou mav 
talk with kings and queens? Will you jostle with the 
common crowd for entree here or audience 'there, when 
all the while this eternal court is open to you with its 
society wide as the world, — the chosen and the mighty 
of every place and time?" 

There is such a multitude of books to-dav, such a 
mass of ephemeral literature in magazines and books 
of fiction that it is scarcely surprising that our taste for 
good reading is vitiated and our mental energies more 
or less dissipated. How many of us are as familiar as 
we should be with the mighty epic of Isaiah, with the 
lyrics of David, with his songs of rejoicing or of penitence? 
Are we well acquainted with the masterpieces of Shake- 
speare — that great analyst of the human soul — with 
their records of passion and tenderness, true for all ages 
and conditions of man? It cannot be too earnestly 

6 



TO THE TEACHER 7 

urged that if we would influence rightly the reading of 
the children under our guidance, we must be careful in 
the choice of our own reading. 

The habit of committing to memory some of the fine 
gold of literature is most helpful and stimulating. Facts 
and figures may pass away, but the splendid imagery 
of the poet, the great thoughts of great men, will do 
much toward the molding of character and the form- 
ation of taste. 

It is believed that this grouping together of choice 
literary material will greatly facilitate the eftorts of 
teachers to instill in the minds of the young an appre- 
ciation of good literature. 

In the use of these selections for memorizing, permit 
me to emphasize the fact that the study of a poem 
should always precede the study of the author's life. 
For convenient reference, sketches of the authors from 
whose writings selections are quoted are appended to 
each volume. The facts given therein, however, are to 
be learned, if at all, only after the children are familiar 
with the poems from the authors to whom they relate. 

The essence of literature, it has been finely said, is 
beauty; to study it mechanically is like grasping a but- 
terfly. The teaching of these poems should be not 
merely a training of memory but also a process of de- 
veloping the imagination, giving the child a quick and 
keen perception of the beauty in literature. 

In the attainment of this double end it becomes 
necessary, therefore, for the teacher to have interest 
and enthusiasm in 'a poem before attempting to present 
it to the class. 

The teacher should make a careful study of the poem, 
stanza by stanza, and seek to grasp the full meaning 
of each sentence. She should try to see the pictures 
presented and to understand the feelings and emotions 



8 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 

of the author when he wrote, for the ideas which the 
author has expressed appeal to similar experiences in 
the child's life. When this has been done thoroughly, the 
teacher will have entered into the spirit of the poem 
and should be able to arouse a like enthusiasm in the 
class. Of course, in the poems set for memorization 
she must commit each selection to memory and drill 
herself upon the oral rendering of it before it is given 
to the children. After this somewhat extensive but 
necessary preparation, the poem in its entirety should 
be read or recited to the class. In this way the children 
will be able to gain a general idea of its purpose and 
theme. Then as they proceed to commit it to memory, 
select the key word or words of each stanza and let 
these suggest the thought of the stanza. By thus group- 
ing sentences around some central idea, you will find 
that the children will memorize and retain readily. 

There are, in many poems, some few lines that reveal 
the heart of the poem — inspired thoughts that appeal 
to the best there is in us. Such gems of thought should 
be so frequently repeated, both individually and in con- 
cert, that the child will never forget them but will make 
them a permanent part of his richest mental treasure. 

It is not necessary to memorize the history poems, 
but they should be read by the children while they are 
studying the lives of the men to whom the poems refer 
or the periods which the poems illustrate. 

Good literature, especially poetry, paints vivid pic- 
tures of the life of a nation, and should constantly be 
used to illuminate the pages of history. Through this 
correlation of literature and history greater interest 
in both subjects is aroused. 

f Avery Warner Skinner. 



CONTENTS 



FIRST YEAR 



Cecil Frances Alexander ... 11 
Eugene Field 12 



All Things Bright and 
Beautiful . . . . . 

Rock-a-By Lady 

Making a House .... 
Who Has Seen the Wind? 

Lady Moon 

What Does the Bee Do? 

The Wind Robert Louis Stevenson . . . 

Where Go the Boats . . Robert Louis Stevenson . . . 
Foreign Children .... Robert Louis Stevenson . . . 
Rhymes Mother Goose 17 

1 Saw a Ship 



PAGE 



Josephine Preston Peabody 
Christina G. Rossetti . . . 
Christina G. Rossetti . . . 
Christina G. Rossetti . . . 



13 
13 
14 
14 
14 
15 
16 
19 
20 



Memory Gems 21 



SECOND YEAR 



"One, Two, Three" . . . 
A Dutch Lullaby . . . . 

Lady Moon 

Seven Times One ... 
The Brown Thrush . . . 
The Owl and the 

Pussy-Cat 

The Journey 

The Wonderful World . 
How Many Seconds in a 

Minute? 

America 

My Shadow ....... 

The Swing 

Memory Gems 



Henry Cuyler Bunner .... 22 

Eugene Field 23 

Lord Houghton 25 

Jean Ingelow 25 

Lucy Larcom 26 

Edward Lear . 27 

Josephine Preston Peabody . 28 

William Brighty Rands ... 29 



Christina G. Rossetti . 
Samuel Francis Smith . 
Robert Louis Stevenson 
Robert Louis Stevenson 



30 
31 
32 
33 
34 



9 



10 



CONTENTS 



THIRD YEAR 



PAGE 

35 

36 
38 
39 
39 
40 



Marjorie's Almanac , . . Thomas Bailey Aldrich . . 
O Little Town of 

Bethlehem Phillips Brooks 

November Alice Gary 

He Prayeth Best .... Samuel Taylor Coleridge 

A Child's Prayer .... Matilda Betham-Edwards . 

A Boy's Song James Hogg 

Calling the Violet . . . Lucy Larcom 41 

A Visit from St. Nicholas Clement Clarke Moore ... 43 

Bobolink Clinton Scollard 44 

Fraidie-Cat Clinton Scollard 46 

The Sandman Margaret Vandergrift .... 46 

Columbia the Gem of the 

Ocean 48 

Memory Gems 49 



FOURTH YEAR 



Fairy Folk 

The Night Wind .... 

Jack Frost 

September 

The Village Blacksmith 
The Children's Hour . . 
The Wind and the Moon 

The Bluebird 

Jim Crow ' . 

Sweet and Low 

The Barefoot Boy . . . 

Lucy Gray 

Memory Gems 



William Allingham 50 

Eugene Field 52 

Hannah Flagg Gould .... 53 

Helen Hunt Jackson .... 54 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 55 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 57 

George MacDonald 58 

Emily Huntington Miller . . 61 

Clinton Scollard 61 

Alfred, Lord Tennyson ... 63 
John Greenleaf Whittier . : . 63 
William Wordsworth .... 67 
70 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES . , 73 

INDEX (BY TITLES) 83 

INDEX (BY AUTHORS) 85 



BOOK ONE 

FIRST YEAR 



ALL THINGS BRIGHT AND BEAUTIFUL 

All things bright and beautiful, 
All creatures great and small, 

All things wise and wonderful, — 
The Lord God made them all. 

Each little flower that opens, 
Each little bird that sings, — 

He made their glowing colors, 
He made their tiny wings. 

The rich man in his castle. 

The poor man at his gate, 
God made them, high or lowly, 

And order'd their estate. 

The purple-headed mountain, 

The river running, by. 
The morning, and the sunset 

That lighteth up the sky. 

The cold wind in the winter. 

The pleasant summer sun. 
The ripe fruits in the garden, — = 

He made them every one. 
11 



/I3; SELFtJTlONS^ FOR MEMORIZING 

The tall trees in the greenwood, 
The meadows where we play. 

The rushes by the water 
We gather every day; — 

He gave us eyes to see them, 
And lips that we might tell 

How great is God Almighty, 
Who hath made all things well. 

Cecil Frances Alexander. 



ROCK-A-BY LADY 

The Rock-a-By Lady from Hushaby street 

Comes stealing; comes creeping; 
The poppies they hang from her head to her feet, 
And each hath a dream that is tiny and fleet — 
She bringeth her poppies to you, my sweet. 

When she findeth you sleeping! 

There is one little dream of a beautiful drum — 

"Rub-a-dub!" it goeth; 
There is one little dream of a big sugar-plum. 
And lo! thick and fast the other dreams come 
Of popguns that bang, and tin tops that hum, 

And a trumpet that bloweth ! 

And dollies peep out of those wee little dreams 

With laughter ^nd singing; 
And boats go a-floating on silvery streams, 
And the stars peek-a-boo with their own misty gleams, 
And up, up, and up, where the Mother Moon beams, 

The fairies go winging! 



FIRST YEAR 13 

Would you dream all these dreams that are tiny and fleet? 

They'll come to you sleeping; 
So shut the two eves that are wearv, mv sweet. 
For the Rock-a-Bv Ladv from Hushabv street, 
With poppies that hang from her head to her feet, 

Comes stealing; comes creeping. 

Eugene Field. 

From "Love Songs of Childhood;" copyright, 1894, by Eugene Field: 
published by Charles Scribner's Sons. 



MAKING A HOUSE 

First of all, I draw the Smoke 

Trailing up the sky; 
Then the Chimney, underneath; 

And Birds all flying by; 
Then the House; and every Window, 

Watching, like an Eye. 

Everybody else begins 

with the House. But I 
Love the Smoke the best of all; 

And vou don't know whv ! . . . 
Here it goes, — like little feathers 

Sailing up the sky! 

Josephine Preston Peabody, 

From "The Book of the Little Past," by permission of the author. 



WHO HAS SEEN THE WIND? 

Who has seen the wind? 

Neither I nor vou: 
But when the leaves hang trembling 

The wind is passing through. 



14 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 

Wlio has seen the wind? 

Neither you nor I: 
But when the trees bow down their heads 

The wind is passing by. 

Christina G. Rossetti. 



LADY MOON 

O Lady Moon, your horns point toward the east: 

Shine, be increased; 
Lady Moon, your horns point toward the west: 

Wane, be at rest. 

Christina G. Rossetti. 



WHAT DOES THE BEE DO? 

What does the bee do? 

Bring home honey. 
What does father do? 

Bring home money. 
And what does mother do? 

Lay out the money. 
And what does baby do? 

Eat up the honey. 

Christina G. Rossetti. 



THE WIND 

I SAW you toss the kites on high 
And blow the birds about the sky; 
And all around I heard you pass. 
Like ladies' skirts across the grass - 
O wind, a-blowing all day long, 
O wind, that sings so loud a song! 



FIRST YEAR 15 

I saw the different things you did, 
But always you yourself you hid. 
I felt you push, I heard you call, 
I could not see yourself at all — 
O wind, a-blowing all day long, 
O wind, that sings so loud a song! 

O you that are so strong and cold ; 
O blower, are you young or old? 
Are you a beast of field and tree. 
Or just a stronger child than me? 
O wind, a-blowing all day long, 
O wind, that sings so loud a song! 

Robert Louis Stevenson. 

From "Poems and Ballads;" copyright, 1895, 1896, by Charles 

Scribner's Sons. 



WHERE GO THE BOATS 

Dark brown is the river, 

Golden is the sand. 
It flows along forever 

With trees on either hand. 

Green leaves a-floating. 

Castles of the foam. 
Boats of mine a-boating — 

Where will all come home? 

On goes the river 

And out past the mill. 

Away down the valley. 
Away down the hill. 



16 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 

Away down the river, 

A hundred miles or more, 
Other Httle children 

Shall bring my boats ashore. 

Robert Louis Stevenson. 

From "Poems and Ballads;" copyright, 1895, 1896, by Charles 

Seribner's Sons. 



FOREIGN CHILDREN 

Little Indian, Sioux or Crow, 

Little frosty Eskimo, 

Little Turk or Japanee, 

O! don't you wish that you were me? 

You have seen the scarlet trees 
And the lions over seas; 
You have eaten ostrich eggs. 
And turned the turtles off their legs. 

Such a life is very fine. 
But it's not so nice as mine: 
You must often, as you trod. 
Have wearied not to be abroad. 

You have curious things to eat, 
I am fed on proper meat; 
You must dwell beyond the foam, 
But I am safe and live at home. 

Little Indian, Sioux or Crow, 

Little frosty Eskimo, 

Little Turk or Japanee, 

O! don't you wish that you were me. 

Robert Louis Stevenson. 

From "Poems and Ballads;" copyright, 1895, 1896, by Charles 

Seribner's Sons. 



FIRST YEAR 17 

LITTLE BO-PEEP 

Little Bo-peep has lost her sheep, 

And can't tell where to find them; 
Leave them alone, and they'll come home, 

And bring their tails behind them. 

Little Bo-peep fell fast asleep. 

And dreamt she heard them bleating; 

But when she awoke she found it a joke, 
For still they all were fleeting. 

Then up she took her little crook. 

Determined for to find them; 
She found them indeed, but it made her heart bleed. 

For they'd left their tails behind them. 

It happened one day, as Bo-peep did stray, 

Into a meadow hard by — 
There she espied their tails side by side. 

All hung on a tree to dry. 

She heaved a sigh, and wiped her eye. 

And over the hillocks she raced; 
And tried what she could, as a shepherdess should. 

That each tail should be properly placed. 

Mother Goose. 

THIS LITTLE PIG 

This little pig went to market; 
This little pig stayed at home; 
This little pig had roast beef; 
This little pig had none; 
This Httle pig said, "Wee, Wee! 
I can't find my way home." 

Mother Goose. 



18 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 

ROCK-A-BYE 

RocK-A-BYE, baby, thy cradle is green; 
Father's a nobleman, mother's a queen; 
And Betty's a lad}^ and wears a gold ring; 
And Johnny's a drummer, and drums for the king. 

Mother Goose. 

HUSH-A-BYE 

HusH-A-BYE, baby, on the tree-top, 
When the wind blows the cradle will rock; 
When the bough breaks the cradle will fall, 
Down will come baby, bough, cradle, and all. 

Mother Goose. 

SING A SONG 

Sing a song of six-pence, 

A pocket full of rye; 
Four-and-twenty blackbirds 

Baked in a pie; 

When the pie was opened, 

The birds began to sing; 
Was not that a dainty dish 

To set before the king? 

The king w^as in his counting house, 

Counting out his money; 
The queen was in the parlor. 

Eating bread and honey; 



FIRST YEAR 19 

The maid was in the garden, 

Hanging out the clothes; 
When up came a blackbird 

And snapt off her nose. 

Mother Goose. 



HUIVIPTY DUMPTY 

HimiPTY DuMPTY sat on a wall, 

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall; 

Not all the king's horses, 

Nor all the king's men, 

Could set Humpty Dumpty up again. 

Mother Goose. 



LITTLE BOY BLUE 

Little boy blue, come blow^ your horn, 

The sheep's in the meadow, the cow's in the corn; 

Where's the boy that looks after the sheep? 

He's under the haycock, fast asleep. 

Will you awake him? No, not I; 

For if I do, he'll be sure to crv. 

Mother Goose. 



MARY, MARY 

Mary, IMary, quite contrary. 

How does your garden grow? 
With cockle-shells and silver bells 

And pretty maids all of a-row. 

Mother Goose, 



20 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 



I SAW A SHIP 

I SAW a ship a-sailing, 

A-sailing on the sea; 
And, ohl it was all laden 

With pretty things for thee! 

There were comfits in the cabin, 

And apples in the hold; 
The sails were made of silk, 

And the masts were made of goldo 

The four-and-twentv sailors 

That stood between the decks 

Were four-and-twenty white mice, 
With chains about their necks. 

The captain was a duck, 

With a packet on his back; 

And when the ship began to move. 

The captain said, " Quack ! quack ! '' 



MEMORY GEMS 

A GOOD name is rather to be chosen than riches. 



Kind hearts are the gardens, 
Kind thoughts are the roots, 
Kind words are the flowers. 
Kind deeds are the fruits. 



Little children, you must seek 
Rather to be good than wase; 
For the thoughts you do not speak 
Shine out in your cheeks and eyes. 

If at first you don't succeed 
Try, try, again. 



Twinkle, twinkle, little star! 
How I wonder what you are, 
Up above the world so high. 
Like a diamond in the sky. 



Politeness is to do or say 

The kindest thing in the kindest way. 



April showers bring May flowers. 



Thirty daj^s hath September, 
April, June and November, 
All the rest have thirty-one, 
Excepting February alone, 
Which hath but twenty-eight, in fine, 
Till leap year gives it twenty-nine. 

21 



SECOND YEAR 



(( 



ONE, TWO, THREE" 



It was an old, old, old, old lady. 
And a boy that was half-past three; 

And the way that they played together 
Was beautiful to see. 

She couldn't go running and jumping, 
And the boy, no more could he; 

For he was a thin little fellow. 
With a thin little twisted knee. 

They sat in the yellow sunlight, 

Out under the maple tree; 
And the game that they played I'll tell you. 

Just as it was told to me. 

It was Hide-and-Go-Seek they were playing, 
Though you'd never have known it to be — 

With an old, old, old, old lady, 
And a bov with a twisted knee. 

The bov would bend his face down 
On his one little sound right knee, 

And he'd guess where she was hiding. 
In guesses One, Two, Three! 

"You are in the china closet!" 
He would cry, and laugh with glee — 

It wasn't the china closet ; 

But still he had Two and Three. 

22 



SECOND YEAR 23 

"You are up in Papa's big bedroom, 
In the chest with the queer old key!" 

And she said: "You are warm and warmer, 
But you're not quite right," said she. 

"It can't be the Httle cupboard 
Where Mamma's things used to be, 

So it must be the clothespress, Gran'ma!" 
And he found her with his Three. 

Then she covered her face with her fingers, 
That were wrinkled and white and wee, 

And she guessed where the boy was hiding, 
With a One and a Two and a Three. 

And they had never stirred from their places, 

Right under the maple tree — 
This old, old, old, old lady. 

And the bov with the lame little knee — 
This dear, dear, dear old lady. 

And the boy who was half-past three. 

Henry Cuyler Bunner. 

From " Poems of H. C. Bunner;" copyright, 1884, 1892, 1896, 1899, by 

Charles Scribner's Sons. 

A DUTCH LULLABY 

Wynken, Blynken and Nod one night 

Sailed off in a wooden shoe. 
Sailed on a river of crystal light 

Into a sea of dew. 
"Where are you going and what do you wish?" 

The old moon asked the three. 
"We have come to fish for the herring fish 

That live in this beautiful sea; 
Nets of silver and gold have we," 
Said Wynken, Blynken and Nod. 



24 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 

The old moon laughed and sang a song, 

As they rocked in the wooden shoe, 
And the wind that sped them all night long 

Ruffled the waves of dew. 
The little stars were the herring fish 

That Uved in that beautiful sea, — 
''Now cast your nets whenever you wish, 

Never afeard are we!" 
So cried the stars to the fishermen three — 
Wynken, Blynken and Nod. 

All night long their nets they threw 

To the stars in the twinkling foam. 
Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe, 

Bringing the fishermen home. 
'Twas all so pretty a sail it seemed 

As if it could not be, 
And some folks thought 'twas a dream they'd dreamed 

Of sailing that beautiful sea. 
But I shall name you the fishermen three — 
Wynken, Blynken and Nod. 

Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes 

And Nod is a little head. 
And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies 

Is a wee one's trundle bed. 
So shut your eyes while mother sings 

Of wonderful sights that be, 
And you shall see the beautiful things 

As you rock on the misty sea, — 
Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three — 
Wynken, Blynken and Nod. 

Eugene Field. 

From "Love Songs of Childhood;" copyright, 1894, by Eugene Field: 
published by Charles Scribner's Sons. 



SECOND YEAR 25 



LADY MOON 

Lady INIoon, Lady INIoon, where are you roving? 

"Over the sea." 
Lady jNIoon, Lady Moon, whom are you loving? 

"All that love me." 

Are you not tired with rolling, and never 

Resting to sleep? 
Why look so pale and so sad, as forever 

Wishing to weep? 

"Ask me not this, little child, if you love me: 

You are too bold. 
I must obev mv dear Father above me. 

And do as I'm told." 

Lady Moon, Lady INIoon, where are you roving? 

"Over the sea." 
Lady INIoon, Lady Moon, whom are you loving? 

"All that love me." 

Lord Houghton, 



SE^^N TLNIES ONE 

There 's no dew left on the daisies and clover. 

There's no rain left in heaven; 
I've said my "seven times" over and over, 

Seven times one are seven. 

I am old, so old I can write a letter; 

Mv birthdav lessons are done; 
The lambs play always, they know no better — 

They are only one times one. 



36 SELECTKSS& WfM 



lA-JZiftKXi 



moQn! in the ni^t I hsKvc seen voo snEn^ 
And jJiiniii^ so Found and low; 

Yon were hi^kt^ ah hd^bttl hat yvnr figlit k £ufin^. — 
Yoo are nodiiii^ now hot a how. 

Ton moon. haT^ toq done somedun^ ^<^Tong: in heaT^en, 
That God has hidden ya/ar i^ce? 

1 h<^)e« if yoa hame. inoa wiD scmmh be iot^vmi. 
And shine again in }noiir place. 

O Yiehret bee, Txmre a dnstv fellow: 
Yoa've powdoed jtoot le^ with fjold! 

hiaTe mai^unarr hods^ iich and yellow, 
Gire me v — - to hold! 

« 

And dww me your nesc widi the yoong ones in h.. — 
I win not steal it away; 

1 am old! yon may trust me, finnet, finnct^ — 
I am seren times <»e to-dav! 



7 7 . :^lrt^ THRUSH 

. riT.'.j - .. _ . _ :^ . : jwn thrash atttii^ wp m the tree, 
>|j--. -: . , - r to me! He's singgng to 



A hesay^fittle^jiifittlehQnr? 

*" 'v. _ '. /s nmnifi^ oiner with joy! 

: yon hewr? Ddn\ inon see? 
Look! Inmy tr*^ 

^"^ as happy can be. 



nn « . 



^ -, 



Aj ' "^rh keeps smigii^ ^ A nest do yoH aecv 
A^.- - ' Tae in the j u u i p cr-tree!' 

Lkic "^ ' "~hi! fittie fsnln fittie boy, 

Ort_ jieof itsjoy! 



SECONT) YEAR 27 

Now I'm glad! now I'm free! 
And I ahvavs shall be. 
If you never bring sorrow to me." 

So the merry bro\\'n thrush sings away in the tree, 
To vou and to me, to vou and to me; 
And he sings all the day, little girl, little boy, 
"Oh, the world's running over with joy! 
But long it won't be, 
. Don't vou know? don't vou see? 
Unless we are as good as can be!" 

Lucy Larcom. 

THE 0\\X AND THE PUSSY-CAT 

The Owl and the Pussv-Cat went to sea 

In a beautiful [>ea-green boat. 
They took some honey, and plenty of money 

\\ rap{x?fi up in a fi\e-pound note. 
The Owl l(x)ke<J up to the m(xm above. 

And sang to a small guitar, 
*'0 lovelv Pussv! O Pussv, mv love! 

What a beautiful Pussv vou are — 
You are; 

What a beautiful Pussv vou are!" 

Pussy said to the owl, "You elegant fowl! 

How wonderfully sweet you sing! 
Oh, let us be married, — too long we have tarried, — 

But what shall we do for a ringy" 
Thev sailed awav for a vear and a dav 

ft ft ft ft 

To the land where the Bong-tree grows, 
And there in a wood, a piggy- wig stcx>d 
With a ring in the end of his nose, — 

His nose; 
With a ring in the end of his nose. 



28 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 



i( 



Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling 
Your ring?" Said the piggy, *'I will," 
So they took It away, and were married next day 

By the turkey who lives on the hill. 
They dined upon mince and slices of quince, 

Which they ate with a runcible spoon. 
And hand In hand on the edge of the sand. 
They danced by the light of the moon, — 

The moon; 
They danced by the light of the moon. * 

Edward Lear. 



THE JOURNEY 

I NEVER saw the hills so far 

And blue, the way the pictures are; 

And flowers, flowers growing thick, 
But not a one for me to pick! 

The land was running from the train. 
All blurry through the window-pane. 

But then it all looked flat and still. 
When up there jumped a little hill! 

I saw the windows and the spires, 
And sparrows sitting on the wires; 

And fences, running up and down; 

And then we cut straight through a to\\Ti. 

I saw a valley, like a cup; 

And ponds that twinkled, and dried up. 



SECOND YEAR 29 

I counted meadows, that were burnt; 

And there were trees, — and then there weren't! 

We crossed the bridges with a roar, 
Then hummed, the way we went before. 

And tunnels made it dark and hght 
Like open-work of day and night. 

Until I saw the chimneys rise. 

And lights and lights and lights, like eyes. 

And when they took me through the door, 
I heard It all begin to roar. — 

I thought — as far as I could see — 
That everybody wanted Me! 

Josephine Preston Peabody. 

From " The Book of the Little Past," by perraission of the author. 



THE WONDERFUL WORLD 

Great, wide, beautiful, wonderful World, 
With the wonderful water round you curled, 
And the wonderful grass upon your breast, — 
World, you are beautifully drest. 

The wonderful air is over me, 
And the wonderful wind is shaking the tree; 
It walks on the water, and whirls the mills. 
And talks to itself on the top of the hills. 



30 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 

You, friendly Earth ! how far do you go 

With the wheat fields that nod and the rivers that flow, 

With cities and gardens, and cliffs and isles. 

And people upon you for thousands of miles? 

Ah, you are so great, and I am so small, 

I tremble to think of you. World, at all; 

And yet, when I said my prayers to-day, 

A whisper wdthin me seemed to say — 

"You are more than the Earth, though you are such a 

dot: 
You can love and think, and the Earth cannot!" 

William Brighty Rands. 

By permission of John Lane, publisher. 



HOW MANY SECONDS IN A MINUTE? 

How manv seconds in a minute? 
Sixtv, and no more in it. 

How manv minutes in an hour? 
Sixty for sun and shower. 

How many hours in a day? 
Twenty-four for work and play. 

How many days in a w^eek? 
Seven both to hear and speak. 

How many weeks in a month? 
Four, as the swift moon runn'th. 

How many months in a year? 
Twelve^ the almanac makes clear. ■ 



SECOND YEAR 31 

How many years in an age? 
One hundred, says the sage. 

How many ages in time? 
No one knows the rhyme. 

Christina G. Rossetti. 



MIERICA 

My country, 'tis of thee, 
Sweet land of hberty, 

Of thee I sing; 
Land where mv fathers died, 
Land of the Pilgrims' pride. 
From every mountain side 

Let freedom ring. 

My native country, thee, 
Land of the noble free. 

Thy name I love; 
I love thv rocks and rills, 
Thy woods and templed hills; 
My heart with rapture thrills, 

Like that above. 

Let music swell the breeze. 
And ring from all the trees 

Sweet freedom's song; 
Let mortal tongues awake. 
Let all that breathe partake. 
Let rocks their silence break. 

The sound prolong. 



32 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 

Our fathers' God, to Thee, 
Author of hbertv, 
• To Thee we smg; 

Long may our land be bright 
With Freedom's holy light; 
Protect us by Thy might, 
Great God, our King. 

Samuel Francis Smith. 



MY SHADOW 

I HAVE a little shadow that goes in and out with me, 
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see. 
He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head; 
And I see him jump before me when I jump into my bed. 

The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to 

grow — 
Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow; 
For he sometimes shoots up taller, like an india-rubber 

ball, 
And he sometimes gets so little that there's none of him 

at all. 

He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play, 
And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way. 
He stays so close beside me, he's a coward, you can see; 
I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks 
to me! 

One morning, very early, before the sun was up, 
I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup; 
But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy -head, 
Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in 
bed. 

Robert Louis Stevenson. 



SECOND YEAR 33 



THE SWING 



How do you like to go up in a swing, 
Up in the air so blue? 
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing 
Ever a child can do! 

Up in the air and over the wall, 
Till I can see so wide, 
Rivers and trees and cattle, and all 
Over the countrvside — 

Till I look down on the garden green, 
Down on the roof so brown; — 
Up in the air I go flying again. 
Up in the air and down ! 

Robert Louis Stevenson. 



MEMORY GEMS 

There's nothing so kingly as kindness; 
And nothing so royal as truth. 



Hearts, like doors, will ope with ease 
To very, very little keys; / 

And don't forget that two of these 
Are, "Thank you, sir," and ''If you please." 



It is more blessed to give than to receive. 



Little drops of water, 
Little grains of sand. 
Make the mighty ocean, 
And the pleasant land. 

And the little moments. 
Humble though they be, 
Make the mighty ages 
Of Eternity. 

Little deeds of kindness, 
Little words of love. 
Make our Earth an Eden, 
Like the heaven above. 

Julia A. Fletcher. 
34 



THIRD YEAR 



MARJORIE'S ALMANAC 

Robins in the tree-top, 

Blossoms in the grass, 
Green things a-growing 

Everywhere you pass; 
Sudden Uttle breezes. 

Showers of silver dew, 
Black bough and bent twig 

Budding out anew; 

Pine tree and willow tree, 
I* 

Fringed elm and larch, — 
Don't vou think that INIav-time's 
Pleasanter than March? 

Apples in the orchard 

Mellowing one by one; 
Strawberries upturning 

Soft cheeks to the sun; 
Roses faint with sweetness, 

Lilies fair of face, 
Drowsv scents and murmurs, 

Haunting every place; 
Lengths of golden sunshine. 

Moonlight bright as day, — 
Don't vou think that summer's 

Pleasanter than May? 
35 



36 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 

Roger in the corn-patch 

Whisthng negro songs; 
Pussy by the hearth side 

Romping with the tongs; 
Chestnuts in the ashes 

Bursting through the rind; 
Red leaf and gold leaf 

Rustling down the w^ind; 
Mother "doin' peaches" 

All the afternoon, — 
Don't you think that autumn's 

Pleasanter than June? 

Little fairv snow-flakes 

Dancing in the flue; 
Old Mr. Santa Claus, 

What is keeping you? 
Twilight and fire-light 

Shadows come and go; 
Merry chime of sleigh bells 

Tinkling through the snow; 
Mother knitting stockings 

(Pussy's got the ball), — 
Don't you think that Winter's 

Pleasanter than all? 

Thomas Bailey Aldi^ich. 

By permission of the author. 



O LITTLE TOWN OF BETHLEHEM 

O little town of Bethlehem, 

How still we see thee lie! 
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep 

The silent stars go by; 



THIRD YEAR 



37 



Yet in thy dark streets shineth 

The everlasting Light; 
The hopes and fears of all the years 

Are met in thee to-night. 



For Christ is born of Mary, 

And, gathered all above, 
While mortals sleep, the angels keep 

Their watch of wondering love. 
O morning stars together 

Proclaim the holy birth ! 
And praises sing to God the King, 

And peace to men on earth. 



How silently, how silently. 

The wondrous gift is given! 
So God imparts to human hearts 

The blessings of His heaven. 
No ear may hear His coming, 

But in this world of sin, 
Where meek souls will receive Him still, 

The dear Christ enters in. 



holy Child of Bethlehem! 

Descend to us, we pray; 
Cast out our sin, and enter in, 

Be born in us to-day. 
We hear the Christmas angels 

The great glad tidings tell; 
Oh, come to us, abide with us. 

Our Lord Emmanuel ! 

Phillips Brooks. 

By permission of E. P. Button & Co. 



38 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 



NOVEMBER 



The leaves are fading and falling, 
The winds are rough and wild, 

The birds have ceased their calling, 
But let me tell vou, mv child, 

Though day by day, as it closes. 
Doth darker and colder grow. 

The roots of the bright red roses 
Will keep alive in the snow. 

And when the winter is over. 
The boughs will get new leaves, 

The quail come back to the clover. 
And the swallow back to the eaves. 

The robin will wear on his bosom 
A vest that is bright and new. 

And the loveliest wav-side blossom 
Will shine with the sun and dew. 

The leaves to-day are whirling, 
The brooks are all dry and dumb, 

But let me tell you, my darling, 
The spring will be sure to come. 

There must be rough, cold weather. 

And winds and rains so wild; 
Not all good things together 

Come to us here, my child. 

So, when some dear joy loses 

Its beauteous summer glow. 
Think how the roots of the roses 

Are kept alive in the snow. 

Alice Cary. 



THIRD YEAR 39 



HE PRAYETH BEST 

He prayeth best, who loveth best 
All things both great and small; 

For the dear God who loveth us, 
He made and loveth all. 

Samuel Taylor Coleridge. 



A CHILD'S PRAYER 

God make my life a little light, 

Within the world to glow; 
A tiny flame that burneth bright 

Wherever I may go. 

God make my life a little flower, 

That giveth joy to all, 
Content to bloom in native bower. 

Although its place be small. 

God make my life a little song. 

That comforteth the sad, 
That helpeth others to be strong. 

And makes the singer glad. 

God make my life a little staff. 

Whereon the weak may rest. 
That so what health and strength I have 

May serve my neighbor best. 

Matilda Betham-Edwards. 



40 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 



A BOY'S SONG 

Where the pools are bright and deep, 
Where the gray trout Hes asleep, 
Up the river and o'er the lea, 
That's the way for Billy and me. 

Where the blackbird sings the latest, 
Where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest, 
Where the nestlings chirp and flee, 
That 's the way for Billy and me. 

Where the mowers mow the cleanest. 
Where the hay lies thick and greenest; 
There to trace the homeward bee. 
That's the way for Billy and me. 

Where the hazel bank is steepest. 
Where the shadow falls the deepest. 
Where the clustering nuts fall free. 
That 's the way for Billy and me. 

Why the boys should drive away 
Little sweet maidens from their play, 
Or love to banter and fight so well. 
That's the thing I never could tell. 

But this I know, I love to play. 
Through the meadow, among the ha}^. 
Up the water and o'er the lea, 
That's the way for Billy and me. 

James Hogg. 



THIRD YEAR 41 



CALLING THE VIOLET 

Dear little Viol^ 

Don't be afraid! 
Lift vour blue eves 

From the rock's mossy shade! 

All the birds call for vou 

Out of the sky: 
May is here, waiting, 

And here, too, am I. 

Why do vou shiver so, 

Viol^ sweet? 
Soft is the meadow-grass 

Under my feet. 

Wrapped in your hood of green, 

Violet, why 
Peep from your earth-door 

So silent and shy? 

Trickle the little brooks 

Close to your bed; 
Softest of fleecy clouds 

Float overhead. 



II 



i( 



Ready and waiting!" 
The slender reeds sigh: 

Ready and waiting!" 
We sing — ]May and I. 



Come, pretty Violet, 
Winter's away: 



Km 









^I^IK' "THK ";3m- *t n».":s - fa^k. 



"Sit ^^f ~i%x- 



YriL - 



LdctL 



TBDSD TSL±R ^ 



A VBn FROTI SAINT SIC 



Not a CTf^^ir^ TTi 

Tike ~ : . -''""^ THrr*?- hTm^r "^ 

In bf^C"*?*? TiT 5* '•* 

Tine 

A - hipr 

E -^-?d - - — 

Wlien \ . ' " - 

I rprajiz f^ML ■_ ' -- . ' 

Airav ~r, ^ji-T "^ . ' -' 

Tore open r: 

The mpm r 

GavTea-_--r :- - 

But a 1 -'^'. - -iT, 

I kz^ f^ - - 

Add }yfz ^- ' " - - 

" Voir. rK.._.: _ _ _ 

On. Coroet ! i.r ' - _ ■ . l . — 

To "die tc-p cc T_: - - _ - - - - — 

Now. (ia^fi ais-aT. _ 

As drv leaves uiai *: - ■ " " . 

Ar:^ t&esBL, in a " — r 



1 2 _ 



As I <irp'«" mm imnmm^ xt^j^a '-: 

I>own TTi-r ^^^^ - ^__: - --'flag csz!:^ ~^~^ 



44 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 

He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot, 
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot: 
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back, 
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack. 
His eyes, how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry! 
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry; 
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow. 
And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow. 
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth. 
And the smoke, it encircled his head like a \\Teath. 
He had a broad face, and a little round belly 
That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly. 
He was chubby and plump — a right jolly old elf; 
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself. 
A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head, 
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread. 
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work. 
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk, 
And laying his finger aside of his nose. 
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose. 
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle. 
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. 
But I heard him exclaim, ere they drove out of sight, 
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!" 

Clement Clarke Moore, 



BOBOLINK 

Bobolink — 

He is here! 

Sinnk-a-chink! 

Hark! how clear 
Drops the note 
From his throat. 



THIRD YEAR 45 

Where he sways 
On the spra^'S 
Of the wheat 
In the heat! 
Bobohnk, 

Spink-a'chink] 

Bobohnk 

Is a beau! 
See him prink! 

Watch him go 
Through the air 
To his fair! 
Hear him sing 
On the wing, — 
Sing his best 
O'er her nest: 

"Bobohnk, 

Spink-a-chink ! '' 

Bobohnk, 

Linger long! 
There 's a kink 

In your song 
Like the joy 
Of a boy 
Left to run 
In the sun, — 
Left to play 
All the dav. 

Bobolink, 

Spink-a-chink! 

Clinton Scoll.\rd. 

By permission of Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co. 



46 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 

FRAIDIE-CAT 

I shan't tell vou what's his name: 
When we want to play a game, 
Always thinks that he'll be hurt, 
Soil his jacket in the dirt, 
Tear his trousers, spoil his hat, — 
Fraidie-Cat ! Fraidie-Cat ! 

Nothing of the boy in him! 
^'Dasn't" try to learn to swim; 
Says a cow'll hook; if she 
Looks at him he'll climb a tree. 
" Scart" to death at bee or bat, — 
Fraidie-Cat ! Fraidie-Cat ! 

Claims the 're ghosts all snowy white 
Wandering around at night 
In the attic: wouldn't go 
There for anything, I know. 
B'lieve he'd run if vou said "Scat!" 
Fraidie-Cat ! Fraidie-Cat ! 

Clinton Scollard. 

From "A Boy's Book of Rhyme," by permission of the author. 



THE SANDMAN 

The rosy clouds float overhead, 

The sun is going down: 
And now the sandman's gentle tread 

Comes stealing through the town. 
"White sand, white sand," he softly cries, 

And as he shakes his hand, 
Straightway there lies on babies' eyes 

His gift of shining sand. 



THIRD YEAR 47 

Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown, 
As shuts the rose, they softly close, when he goes 
Through the town. 

From sunny beaches far away — 

Yes, in another land — 
He gathers up at break of day 

His store of shining sand. 
No tempests beat that shore remote, 

No ships may sail that way; 
His little boat alone mav float 

Within that lovely bay. 
Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown. 
As shuts the rose, they softly close, when he goes 

Through the town. 

He smiles to see the eyelids close 

Above the happy eyes; 
And every child right well he tnows, — 

Oh, he is very wise! 
But if, as he goes through the land, 

A naughty baby cries, 
His other hand takes dull gray sand 

To close the wakeful eves. 
Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown, 
As shuts the rose, they softly close, when he goes 

Through the town. 

So when you hear the sandman's song 

Sound through the twilight sweet, 
Be sure you do not keep him long 

A- waiting on the street. 
Lie softly down, dear little head, 

Rest quiet, busy hands. 
Till by your bed his good-night saidj 

He strews the shining sands. 



48 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 

Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown, 
As shuts the rose, they softly close, when he goes 
Through the town. 

Margaret Vandergrift. 



COLUMBIA, THE GEM OF THE OCEAN 

Oh, Columbia, the gem of the ocean, 
The home of the brave and the free. 
The shrine of each patriot's devotion, 
A world offers homage to thee; 
Thy mandates make heroes assemble. 
When Liberty's form stands in view; 
Thy banners make tyranny tremble. 
When borne by the red, white and blue. 

When war wing'd its wide desolation, 
And threaten 'd the land to deform, 
The ark then of freedom's foundation, 
Columbia rode safe through the storm: 
With the garlands of victory around her. 
When so proudly she bore her brave crew, 
With her flag floating proudly before her. 
The boast of the red, white and blue. 

The star-spangled banner bring hither. 

O'er Columbia's true sons let it w^ave; 

May the wreaths they have won never wither. 

Nor its stars cease to shine on the brave; 

May the service united ne'er sever. 

But hold to their colors so true; 

The army and navy forever. 

Three cheers for the red, white and blue. 



MEMORY GEMS 

If a task is once begun, 
Never leave it till it's done; 
Be the labor great or small, 
Do it well or not at all. 



We can do more good by being good than in any other 
way. 

All that's great and good is done 
Just by patient trying. /^ 

Gary. 

Whatever is worth doing at all, is worth doing well. ^ 

Chesterfield. 

You cannot change yesterday, that is clear, 
Or begin to-morrow until it is here. 
So the onlv thing left for vou and for me 
Is to make to-dav as sweet as can be. 



Beautiful hands are those who do 
Work that is earnest and brave and true. 
Moment by moment, the long day through. 

Longfellow. 



The truth is always the strongest argument. 

Sophocles. 

The manly part is to do with might and main what 
you can do. 

Emerson. 
49 



FOURTH YEAR 



FAIRY FOLK 



A CHILD S SONG 



Up the airy mountain, 

Down the rushy glen, 
We daren't go a-hunting . 

For fear of httle men; 
Wee folk, good folk. 

Trooping all together; 
Green jacket, red cap, 

And white owl's feather! 

Down along the rocky shore 

Some make their home, — 
They live on crispy pancakes 

Of yellow tide foam: 
Some in the reeds 

Of the black mountain lake. 
With frogs for their watch dogs, 

All night awake. 

High on the hill-top 

The old King sits: 
He is now so old and gray 

He's nigh lost his wits. 
With a bridge of white mist 

Columbkill he crosses, 
On his stately journeys 

From Slieveleague to Rosses; 
50 



FOURTH YEAR 51 

Or going up with music 

On cold starry nights, 
To sup with the Queen 

Of the gay Northern Lights. 

They stole little Bridget 

For seven years long; 
When she came down again 

Her friends were all gone. 
They took her lightly back, 

Between the night and morrow, 
They thought that she was fast asleep, 

But she was dead with sorrow. 
They have kept her ever since 

Deep within the lakes. 
On a bed of flag leaves, 

Watching till she wakes. 

By the craggy hill-side, 

Through the mosses bare, 
They have planted thorn-trees 

For pleasure here and there. 
Is any man so daring 

As dig one up in spite, 
He shall find the thornies set 

In his bed at night. 

Up the airy mountain, 

Down the rushy glen. 
We daren't go a-hunting 

For fear of little men: 
Wee folk, good folk, 

Trooping all together: 
Green jacket, red cap. 

And white owl's feather! 

WlLLIA]M AlLINGIL^AI. 



52 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 

THE NIGHT WIND 

Have you ever heard the wind go "Yoooooo?" 

'Tis a pitiful sound to hear! 
It seems to chill you through and through 

With a strange and speechless fear. 
'Tis the voice of the night that broods outside 

When folks should be asleep, 
And many and many's the time I've cried 
To the darkness brooding far and wide 

Over the land and the deep: 
"Whom do you want, O lonely night. 

That you wail the long hours through?" 
And the night would say in its ghostly way : 

"Yoooooo! Yoooooooooo! Yoooooooooo ! " 

My mother told me long ago 

When I was a little lad 
That when the night went wailing so, 

Somebody had been bad; 
And then, when I was snug in bed, 

Whither I had been sent. 
With the blankets pulled up round my head, 
I'd think of what my mother 'd said! 

And wonder what boy she meant. 
And, "Who's been bad to-day?" I'd ask 

Of the wind that hoarsely blew. 
And the voice would say in its meaningful way: 

"Yoooooo! Yoooooooooo! Yoooooooooo!" 

That this was true, I must allow — 

You'll not believe it, though! 
Yes, though I'm quite a model now, 

I was not always so. 



FOURTH YEAR 53 

And if you doubt what things I say, 

Suppose you make the test; 
Suppose that when you've been bad some day, 
And up to bed are sent away 

From mother and the rest — 
Suppose you ask, "Who has been bad?" 

And then you'll hear what's true; 
For the wind will moan in its ruefulest tone: 

"Yoooooo! Yoooooooooo! Yoooooooooo ! " 

Eugene Field. 

From "Love Songs of Childhood;" copyright, 1894, by Eugene Field: 
published by Charles Scribner's Sons. 



JACK FROST 

The Frost looked forth one still, clear night. 
And whispered, "Now I shall be out of sight; 
So through the valley, and over the height, 

In silence Fll take my way. 
I will not go on like that blustering train. 
The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain. 
That make so much bustle and noise in vain, 

But I'll be as busy as they!" 



So he flew to the mountain, and powdered its crest; 
He lit on the trees, and their boughs he dressed 
With diamonds and pearls; and over the breast 

Of the quivering lake, he spread 
A coat of mail, that it need not fear 
The glittering point of many a spear. 
Which he hung on its margin, far and near, 

Where a rock could rear its head. 



54 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 

He went to the windows of those who slept, 
And over each pane, Uke a fairy, crept; 
Wherever he breathed, wherever he stepped. 

By the hght of the morn were seen 
Most beautiful things; there were flowers and trees; 
There were bevies of birds and swarms of bees; 
There were cities with temples and towers; and these 

All pictured in silver sheen! 

But he did one thing that was hardly fair — 
He peeped in the cupboard, and finding there 
That all had forgotten for him to prepare, 

"Now, just to set them a-thinking, 
I'll bite this basket of fruit," said he, 
"This costly pitcher I'll burst in three; 
And the glass of water they've left for me 

Shall 'tchick!' to tell them I'm drinking!" 

Hannah Flagg Gould. 



SEPTEMBER 

The golden-rod is yellow; 

The corn is turning brown; 
The trees in apple orchards 

With fruit are bending down. 

The gentian's bluest fringes 
Are curling in the sun; 

In dusty pods the milkweed 
Its hidden silk has spun. 

The sedges flaunt their harvest, 
In everv meadow nook; 

And asters by the brook-side 
Make asters in the brook. 



FOURTH YEAR 55 

From dewy lanes at morning 

The grapes' sweet odors rise; 
At noon the roads all flutter 

With yellow butterflies. 

By all these lovely tokens 

September days are here, 
With summer's best of weather, 

And autumn's best of cheer. 

But none of all this beauty 

Which floods the earth and air 
Is unto me the secret 

Which makes September fair. 

'Tis a thing which I remember; 

To name it thrills me yet; 
One day of one September 

I never can forget. 

Helen Hunt Jackson. 

By permission of Little, Brown & Co. 

THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH 

Under a spreading chestnut-tree 

The village smithy stands; 
The smith, a mighty man is he, 

With large and sinewy hands; 
And the muscles of his brawny arms 

Are strong as iron bands. 

His hair is crisp, and black, and long, 

His face is like the tan; 
His brow is wet with honest sweat, 

He earns whate'er he can, 
And looks the whole world in the face. 

For he owes not any man. 



56 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 

Week in, week out, from morn till night. 
You can hear his bellows blow; 

You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, 
With measured beat and slow, 

Like a sexton ringing the village bell. 
When the evening sun is low. 

And children coming home from school 
Look in at the open door; 

They love to see the flaming forge, 
And hear the bellows roar. 

And catch the burning sparks that fly 
Like chaff from a threshing-floor. 

He goes on Sunday to the church, 

And sits among his boys; 
He hears the parson pray and preach, 

He hears his daughter's voice. 
Singing in the village choir. 

And it makes his heart rejoice. 

It sounds to him like her mother's voice, 

Singing in Paradise! 
He needs must think of her once more. 

How in the grave she lies; 
And with his hard, rough hand he wipes 

A tear out of his eyes. 

Toiling, — rejoicing, — sorrowing. 
Onward through life he goes; 

Each morning sees some task begin. 
Each evening sees it close; 

Something attempted, something done, 
Has earned a night's repose. 



FOURTH YEAR 57 

Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, 

For the lesson thou hast taught! 
Thus at the flaming forge of hfe 

Our fortunes must be wrought; 
Thus on its sounding anvil shaped 

Each burning deed and thought. 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 



THE CHILDREN'S HOUR 

Between the dark and the daylight. 
When the night is beginning to lower, 

Comes a pause in the day's occupations, 
That is known as the Children's Hour. 

I hear in the chamber above me 

The patter of little feet. 
The sound of a door that is opened, 

And voices soft and sweet. 

From my study I see in the lamplight. 
Descending the broad hall stair. 

Grave Alice, and laughing Allegra, 
And Edith with golden hair. 

A whisper, and then a silence : 
Yet I know by their merry eyes 

They are plotting and planning together 
To take me by surprise. 

A sudden rush from the stairway, 

A sudden raid from the hall ! 
By three doors left unguarded 

They enter my castle wall ! 



58 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 

They climb up into my turret 

O'er the arms and back of my chair; 

If I try to escape, they surround me; 
They seem to be everywhere. 

They almost devour me with kisses, 
Their arms about me entwine. 

Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen 
In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine! 

Do you think, O blue-eyed banditti, 
Because you have scaled the wall, ' 

Such an old mustache as I am 
Is not a match for you all! 

I have you fast in my fortress. 

And will not let you depart. 
But put you down into the dungeon 

In the round-tower of my heart. 

And there I will keep you forever. 

Yes, forever and a day, 
Till the walls shall crumble to ruin, 

And moulder in dust away! 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 



THE WIND AND THE INIOON 

Said the Wind to the Moon, "I will blow you out; 

You stare 

In the air 

Like a ghost in a chair. 
Always looking what I am about — 
I hate to be watched; I'll blow you out." 



FOURTH YEAR 59 

The Wind blew hard, and out went the Moon. 

So, deep 

On a heap 

Of clouds to sleep, 
Down lay the Wind, and slumbered soon, 
Muttering low, "I've done for that Moon." 

He turned in his bed; she was there again! 

On high 

In the sky, 

With her one ghost eye. 
The Moon shone white and alive and plain. 
Said the Wind, "I will blow you out again.'' 

The Wind blew hard, and the Moon grew dim. 

" With my sledge, 
And my wedge, 
I have knocked off her edge! 
If only I blow right fierce and grim, 
The creature will soon be dimmer than dim." 

He blew and he blew, and she thinned to a thread. 

" One puff 

More's enough 

To blow her to snuff! 
One good puff more where the last was bred, 
And glimmer, glimmer, glum will go the thread." 

He blew a great blast, and the thread was gone. 

In the air 

Nowhere 

Was a moonbeam bare; 
Far off and harmless the shv stars shone — 
Sure and certain the Moon was gone! 



/ 

60 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 

The Wind he took to his revels once more; 

On down 

In town, 

Like a merry-mad clown, 
He leaped and hallooed with whistle and roar — 
"What's that?" The glimmering thread once more! 

He flew in a rage — he danced and blew; 

But in vain 

Was the pain 

Of his bursting brain ; 
For still the broader the Moon-scrap grew, 
The broader he swelled his big cheeks and blew. 

Slowly she grew — till she filled the night, 

And shone 

On her throne 

In the sky alone, 
A matchless, wonderful silvery light. 
Radiant and lovely, the Queen of the Night. 

Said the Wind : " What a marvel of power am I ! 

With my breath, 

Good faith! 

I blew her to death — 
First blew her away right out of the sky — 
Then blew her in; what strength have I!" 

But the Moon she knew nothing about the affair; 

For high 
In the sky. 

With her one white eye, 
Motionless, miles above the air. 
She had never heard the great Wind blare. 

George MacDonald. 



FOURTH YEAR 61 

THE BLUEBIRD 

I KNOW the song that the bluebird is singing, 
Out in the apple tree where he is swinging. 
Brave little fellow! the skies may be dreary, 
Nothing cares he while his heart is so cheer3\ 

Hark ! how the music leaps out from his throat ! 
Hark! was there ever so merry a note? 
Listen awhile, and you'll hear what he's saying. 
Up in the apple-tree, swinging and swaying: 

"Dear little blossoms, down under the snow, 
You must be weary of winter, I know; 
Hark! while I sing you a message of cheer, 
Summer is coming, and spring-time is here! 

"Little white snowdrop, I pray you, arise; 
Bright yellow crocus, come, open your eyes; 
Sweet little violets hid from the cold. 
Put on your mantles of purple and gold: 
Daffodils, daffodils! say, do you hear? 
Summer is coming, and spring-time is here!" 

Emily Huntington ]Miller. 

By permission of the author. 

JIM CROW 

Oh, say, Jim Crow, 
Why is it you always go 
With a gloomy coat of black 
The year long on your back? 
Why don't you change its hue. 
At least for a day or two. 
To red or green or blue? 



62 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 

And why do you always wear 
Such a sober, sombre air, 
As glum as the face of Care? 
I wait for your reply, 

And into the peaceful pause 
There comes your curious, croaking cry, - 

"Oh, because! 'cause! 'cause!" 

Oh, say, Jim Crow, 

Why, when the farmers sow. 

And the corn springs up in the row, 

And the days that once were brief 

Grow long, and laugh into leaf, 

Do you play the rascally thief? 

I can see by the look in your eye, — 

Wary and wise and sly, — 

That you know the code in vogue; 
Why will you, then, oh, why. 

Persist in the path of the rogue? 
I hearken for 3'our reply. 

And into the empty pause 
There rings your graceless, grating cry,— 

"Oh, because! 'cause! 'cause!" 

And say, Jim Crow, 

With all the lore you know, — 

Lore of the wood and field. 
Lore of the clouds, and the clear 
Depths of the atmosphere, 

To our duller ken concealed, — 
Whv is it vou ever speak 
With a mingled squawk and squeak? 
You, with your talents all, 

And your knowledge of this and that. 



FOURTH YEAR 63 

Why must you sing like a squall, 
And talk like a perfect "flat?" 

I listen for your reply, 
But in the lapse and the pause 

All I hear is your impudent cry, — 
"Oh, because! 'cause! 'cause!" 

Clinton Scollard. 

From "The Lyric Bough," by permission of the author. 

SWEET AND LOW 

Sweet and low, sweet and low, 

Wind of the western sea. 
Low, low, breathe and blow, 

Wind of the western sea! 
Over the rolling waters go. 
Come from the dying moon, and blow. 

Blow him again to me; 
While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps. 

Sleep and rest, sleep and rest. 

Father will come to thee soon; 
Rest, rest, on mother's breast. 

Father will come to thee soon; 
Father will come to his babe in the nest. 
Silver sails all out of the west. 

Under the silver moon; 
Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep. 

Alfred, Lord Tennyson. 

THE BAREFOOT BOY 

Blessings on thee, little man. 
Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan! 
With thy turned-up pantaloons. 
And thy merry whistled tunes; 



64 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 

With thy red Up, redder still 
Kissed by strawberries on the hill; 
With the sunshine on thy face, 
Through thy torn brim's jaunty grace; 
From my heart I give thee joy, — 
I was once a barefoot boy ! 
Prince thou art, — the grown-up man 
Only is republican. 
Let the million-dollared ride ! 
Barefoot, trudging at his side. 
Thou hast more than he can buy 
In the reach of ear and eye, — 
Outward sunshine, inward joy; 
Blessings on thee, barefoot boy! 



Oh for boyhood's painless play, 
Sleep that wakes in laughing day. 
Health that mocks the doctor's rules. 
Knowledge never learned of schools. 
Of the wild bee's morning chase. 
Of the wild-flower's time and place. 
Flight of fowl and habitude 
Of the tenants of the wood; 
How the tortoise bears his shell, 
How the woodchuck digs his cell. 
And the ground-mole sinks his well; 
How the robin feeds her young. 
How the oriole's nest is hung; 
Where the whitest lilies blow. 
Where the freshest berries grow. 
Where the ground-nut trails its vine. 
Where the wood-grape's clusters shine; 
Of the black wasp's cunning way, 
Mason of his walls of clay. 



rOUKTH YEAR 65 

And the architectural plans 
Of gray hornet artisans! 
For, eschewing books and tasks, 
Nature answers all he asks; 
Hand in hand with her he walks, 
Face to face with her he talks, 
Part and parcel of her joy, — 
Blessings on the barefoot boy! 

Oh for boyhood's time of June, 
Crowding years in one brief moon, 
When all things I heard or saw. 
Me, their master, waited for. 
I was rich in flowers and trees, 
Humming-birds and honey-bees; 
For my sport the squirrel played. 
Plied the snouted mole his spade; 
For my taste the blackberry cone 
Purpled over hedge and stone; 
Laughed the brook for my delight 
Through the day and through the night, 
Whispering at the garden wall, 
Talked with me from fall to fall; 
Mine the sand-rimmed pickerel pond. 
Mine the walnut slopes beyond, 
Mine, on bending orchard trees, 
Apples of Hesperides ! 
Still as my horizon grew. 
Larger grew my riches too; 
All the world I saw or knew 
Seemed a complex Chinese toy. 
Fashioned for a barefoot boy! 

Oh for festal dainties spread, 
Like my bow^l of milk and bread; 



66 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 

Pewter spoon and bowl of wood, 
On the door-stone, gray and rude! 
O'er me, like a regal tent, 
Cloudy-ribbed, the sunset bent. 
Purple-curtained, fringed with gold, 
Looped in many a wind-swung fold; 
While for music came the play 
Of the pied frogs' orchestra; 
And, to light the noisy choir, 
Lit the fly his lamp of fire. 
I was monarch: pomp and joy 
Waited on the barefoot boy! 

Cheerily, then, my little man, 
Live and laugh, as boyhood can! 
Though the flinty slopes be hard, 
Stubble-speared the new-mown sward, 
Every morn shall lead thee through 
Fresh baptisms of the dew; 
Every evening from thy feet 
Shall the cool \\dnd kiss the heat: 
All too soon these feet must hide 
In the prison cells of pride. 
Lose the freedom of the sod. 
Like a colt's for work be shod. 
Made to tread the mills of toil, 
Up and down in ceaseless moil; 
Happy if their track be found 
. Never on forbidden ground; 
Happy if they sink not in 
Quick and treacherous sands of sin. 
Ah ! that thou couldst know thy joy. 
Ere it passes, barefoot boy ! 

John Greenleaf Whittier. 



FOURTH YEAR 67 

LUCY GRAY 

Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray: 
And, when I crossed the wild, 
I chanced to see at break of day 
The sohtary child. 

No mate, no comrade Lucy knew; 
She dwelt on a wide moor, 
— The sweetest thing that ever grew 
Beside a human door! 

You yet may spy the faw^n at play, 
The hare upon the green; 
But the sweet face of Lucy Gray 
Will never more be seen. 

" To-night will be a stormy night — 
You to the town must go; 
And take a lantern. Child, to light 
Your mother through the snow." 

"That, Father! will I gladly do: 
'Tis scarcelv afternoon — 
The minster-clock has just struck two, 
And yonder is the moon!" 

At this the Father raised his hook, 
And snapped a faggot-band; 
He plied his work ; — and Lucy took 
The lantern in her hand. 

Not blither is the mountain roe: 
With manv a wanton stroke 
Her feet disperse the pow^dery snow, 
That rises up like smoke. 



68 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 

The storm came on before its time: 
She wandered up and down; 
And many a hill did Lucy climb: 
But never reached the town. 

The wretched parents all that night 
Went shouting far and wide; 
But there was neither sound nor sight 
To serve them for a guide. 

At day-break on a hill they stood 
That overlooked the moor; 
And thence they saw the bridge of wood, 
A furlong from their door. 

They wept — and, turning homeward, cried, 
"In heaven we all shall meet;" 
— When in the snow the mother spied 
The print of Lucy's feet. 

Then downwards from the steep hill's edge 
They tracked the footmarks small; 
And through the broken hawthorn hedge, 
And by the long stone- wall; 

And then an open field they crossed: 
The marks were still the same; 
They tracked them on, nor ever lost; 
And to the bridge they came. 

They followed from the snowy bank 
Those footmarks, one by one. 
Into the middle of the plank; 
And further there were none! 



FOURTH YEAR 69 

— Yet some maintain that to this day 
She is a hving child; 
That you may see sweet Lucy Gray 
Upon the lonesome wild. 

O'er rough and smooth she trips along, 
And never looks behind; 
And sings a solitary song 
That whistles in the wind. 

William Wordsworth. 



MEMORY GEMS 

Contentment is better than riches. 



A THING of beauty is a joy forever. 

Keats. 



Heaven helps those who help themselves. 

Benjamin Franklin. 



Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they 
toil not, neither do they spin. And yet I say unto you 
that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like 
one of these. 

Bible. 

Lives of great men all remind us, 
We can make our lives sublime; 
And, departing, leave behind us, 
Foot-prints on the sands of time. 

Longfellow. 



Write it on your heart that every day is the best day 
of the vear. 



If wisdom's ways you'd wisely seek, 
Five things observe with care: 
Of whom you speak, to whom you speak, 
And how, and when, and where. 

70 



MEMORY GEMS 71 

Sin has many tools, but a lie is the handle which fits 

them all. 

Holmes. 

To look up and not down, 
To look forward and not back, 
To look out and not in, and 
To lend a hand. 

Hale. 

Habit is a cable ; we weave a thread of it every day, 
and at last we cannot break it. 

Horace Mann. . 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 

Thomas Bailey Aldrich, an American journalist, 
poet and novelist, was born at Portsmouth, N. H., in 1836, 
and died at Boston in 1907. He became connected with 
the Atlantic Monthly and in 1883 was made its editor. 

Among his books of poems are "Cloth of Gold," 
"Flower and Thorn," "Friar Jerome's Beautiful Book." 
Among his best known prose works are " The Story of a 
Bad Boy " and " Prudence Palfrey." He is also a wTiter of 
short stories, the best of which is "Marjorie Daw." His 
style is charming, graceful, and genuinely witty. 

Mrs. Cecil Frances Alexander, an Irish poet and 
novelist, was born in 1818 at Straebane, Ireland, and 
died in 1895 at Londonderry. Her publications include 
stories and poems for children, all written anonymously. 
She is best known as a writer of religious poems. 

William Allingil^m, an Irish poet, was born in Bally- 
shannon, Ireland, in 1828; died in 1889. He began 
writing at an early age. Removing to England, he was 
appointed to a position in the customs. He published a 
volume of poems in 1850 and "Day and Night Songs" in 
1854. 

Phillips Brooks, an American clergyman and relig- 
ious writer, was born in Boston, Mass., in 1835; died 
there in 1893. He was educated at the Boston Latin 
School and Harvard L^niversity. He was a magnetic, 
forceful, and sympathetic preacher and was one of the 

73 



74 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 

foremost pulpit orators of America. All of his writings 
are spiritual in character. 

Henry Cuyler Bunner, an American poet, journal- 
ist and writer of short stories, was born at Oswego, N. Y., 
in 1855; died at Nutley, N. J., in 1896. He was not a 
college graduate but was always a careful student and 
an energetic worker. In 1877 he became assistant editor 
of Puck and soon afterwards its chief editor. He did 
some of his best work for this paper. 

Alice Gary was born near Cincinnati, Ohio, in 1820, 
and died at New York in 1871. She and her sister, 
Phoebe Gary, came to New York in early womanhood 
and soon won a place in the literary life of that city. 
While she wrote novels and sketches of western life, her 
principal literary production was of verse. Her poems 
are marked by grace and simple melody. 

Samuel Taylor Goleridge, an English poet and 
philosopher, was born at Ottery St. Mary, England, in 
1772; died at Highgate, London, in 1834. As a boy he 
was recognized as a genius. He went to Jesus Gollege, 
Gambridge, but left there before he took his degree. He 
wrote his best poetry before he was twenty-eight years 
of age; after that his notable writings were prose. 

Among his best poems are "The Ode on the Departing 
Year," "Ghristabel," and the "Ancient Mariner." To- 
sjether with Southev and Wordsworth he formed what is 
known as the Lake School of Poets. 

Matilda Barbara Betham-Edwards, an English 
novelist, was born at Westerfield, Suffolk, in 1836. She 
has written numerous novels and books for children. 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 75 

Eugene Field, an American poet and journalist, was 
born at Chicago in 1850, and died in 1895. Aftei- 
studying at Williams College, Knox College and the 
University of Missouri, he went abroad. Upon his re- 
turn he began to write for several papers in his native 
State. In 1881, while writing for the Denver Tribune, 
he came forward as a writer of humorous sketches. He 
then joined the staff of the Chicago Daily Neics and in 
the "Sharps and Flats" column of that paper first ap- 
peared the children's poems and dialect poems which 
have made him famous, not only in x\merica but in 
Europe. Among them "Little Boy Blue," "A Dutch 
Lullaby" ("Wynken, Blynken and Nod") and half a 
dozen others are already classic. These poems inspired 
by his love for children are, in their mingled quaint- 
ness, humor and pathos, comparable only to similar 
work of Robert Louis Stevenson. 

Hannah Flagg Gould, an American poet, was born 
at Lancaster, Mass., in 1789; died in 1865. She has 
written many poems in a simple and pleasing style. 

James Hogg, a Scottish poet and prose writer, was 
known as "The Ettrick Shepherd." He was born in 
the Ettrick Forest in 1770; died at Eltrive Lake in 1835. 
His prose writings do not possess the same merit as his 
poems, and the latter, with the exception of "The Boy's 
Song" and "Kilmeny" are only mediocre. 

Richard Monckton Milnes, Lord Houghton, an 
English poet and miscellaneous writer, was born in 
London, 1809, and died in 1885. He was exceptionally 
successful as a writer of songs to be set to music. iVmong 
his works are "Poems, Legendary and Historical," 



76 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 

"Palm Leaves," "Life Letters and Literary Remains 
of John Keats." 

Jean Ingelow, an English poet and writer of romance, 
was born in Boston, Lincolnshire, in 1830; died at 
Kensington in 1897. Her poems, especially "High 
Tide off the Coast of Lincolnshire," "Divided," the 
"Songs of Seven" and other lyrics, are replete with true 
poetic insight and feeling. She attained popularity in 
America as well as in England. Her poems are written 
in strong but simple language. 

Helen Hunt Jackson, better known as Helen Hunt, 
an American novelist and poet, was born at Amlierst, 
Mass., in 1831 and died in San Francisco in 1885. Her 
verse is characterized by sympathy with all human joy 
and sorrow and deep feeling for the beauty and truth 
embodied in nature. Her best prose works are "A 
Century of Dishonor" and a fine romance of early 
Spanish and Indian life in California entitled "Ramona," 
in which the rights of the Indians, towards whom she 
was always compassionate, are earnestly championed. 

Lucy Larcom was born at Beverly Farms, Mass., in 
1826 and died in 1893. She was for a number of years 
the editor oijOur Young Folks. Her writings include 
stories for children and several volumes of poems. 

Edward Lear was born in London, England, in 1813 
and died in 1888. He was a landscape painter of some 
merit and an author of nonsense verse and songs for 
children. Mr. Lear was a friend of Tennyson, who 
addressed to him some of his poems. 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, an American poet, 
was born at Portland, Maine, in 1807; died at Cam- 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 77 

bridge, Mass., in 1882. He was graduated from Bowdoin 
College in 1825 in the same class with Nathaniel Haw- 
thorne, and the following year received the appointment 
of Professor of Modern Languages in his Alma Mater. 
He studied three years in Europe before taking up his 
duties. In 1835, having received an appointment in 
Harvard College, he moved to Cambridge and made his 
home there during the remainder of his life. He is, per- 
haps, the most popular of the American poets; for the 
truth and simplicity of his sentiments and the graceful 
manner in which they are expressed appeal to humanity. 
In his poems, especially in "Evangeline," "Hiawatha" 
and "The Courtship of Miles Standish," he has done 
much to immortalize incidents in American history. 
Among his well-known shorter poems are "The Children's 
Hour," "The Wreck of the Hesperus," "The Village 
Blacksmith" and "Excelsior." 

George MacDonald, a Scottish poet and novelist, 
was born at Huntley, Aberdeenshire, in 1824 and was 
educated at the University of Aberdeen. He studied 
theology and became an independent minister, but later 
resigned the ministry, went to London and began his 
literary work. He afterwards removed to Italy. Among 
the best of his novels are "The Annals of a Quiet Neigh- 
borhood " and "Donald Grant." He died in 1905. 

Emily Huntington Miller, an American juvenile 
writer, was born at Brooklyn, Conn., in 1833. She was 
educated at Oberlin College and in 1860 was married to 
John E. Miller, also a graduate of Oberlin. Mrs. Miller's 
literary work began when she was a school-girl. Her 
productions were published in all of the leading periodi- 
cals for children. 



78 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 

Dr. Clement Clarke Moore, an American scholar 
and poet, was born at New York in 1779 and died at 
Newport, R. I., in 1863. He was for many years Pro- 
fessor of Oriental and Greek Literature in the General 
Theological Seminary in New York City. He published 
several Greek and Hebrew textbooks, but is best remem- 
bered as the author of the verses " 'Twas the Night 
Before Christmas." This poem, sometimes called "A 
Visit from St. Nicholas," was founded upon an old Dutch 
legend, and has become a classic for children. 

Josephine Preston Peabody (Mrs. Lionel S. 
Marks) was born at New York; studied at Radcliffe 
College and was an instructor in English literature at 
Wellesley College. She has written delightful poems 
for children and has contributed to the leading maga- 
zines. She has also written several poetical dramas, the 
most recent one of which, "The Piper," founded upon 
Browning's poem "The Pied Piper of Hamelin," was 
successfully produced at the New Theatre, New York, 
during the season of 1911. 

Willlaj^i Brighty PtANDS, an English novelist and 
poet, was born in 1827 and died in 1882. He contributed 
largely to periodical literature under the pseudonym of 
]\Iatthew Browne. 

Christina G. Rossetti, an English poet of some re- 
nown, was born in London in 1830 and died in 1894. 
Among her well-known poems are "The Prince's Prog- 
ress," "Sing Song," "A Pageant," "Time Flies." 

Clinton Scollard, an American poet, was born at 
Clinton, N. Y., in 1860. After graduating at Hamilton 
College he studied at Harvard and also abroad. He 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 79 

has published the following volumes of poems: " Pictures 
in Songs," "With Reed and Lyre," "Old and New 
Lvrics," ^'A Boy's Book of Rhyme," "The Lyric 
Bough." 

Samuel Francis Smith, author of " My Country, 'tis 
of Thee," was an American clergyman and poet, born in 
Boston in 1808; died there in 1895. He graduated at 
Harvard in 1829 in the same class with Oliver Wendell 
Holmes. He wrote the National Hymn while at Andover 
studying theology. It was written for a children's Fourth 
of July celebration and was first publicly sung in the 
Park Street Church in Boston. 

Robert Louis Stevenson, a Scottish novelist, essayist, 
and poet, was born at Edinburgh in 1850; died at Apia, 
Samoa, in 1894. He received his education at Cambridge, 
studied law and was admitted to the bar. He began his 
literary career by contributing to magazines. In 1879 
he came to America and crossed the continent in an 
emigrant car. In his prose writings he combines powers 
of imagination and an unsurpassed faculty of telling a 
story with a finished and polished style. His poems of 
childhood show an unerring and sympathetic knowledge 
of child nature. 

Of his many novels "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" is the 
most widelv known. Some of his other works are 
"Treasure Island," "Kidnapped," "Prince Otto," "The 
Wrecker," "L^nderwoods," "Across the Plains" and 
"A Child's Garden of Verse." 

Alfred, Lord Tennyson, a celebrated English poet, 
was born at Somersby, Lincolnshire, in 1809; died at 
Aldworth House, near Haslemere, Surrey, in 1892. He 
was educated at Trinity College, Cambridge. In 1850 



80 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 

he was appointed Poet Laureate of England through 
Prince Albert's admiration for "In Memoriam." He 
was buried in the Poets' Corner, Westminster Abbey, 
near Chaucer. 

Some of his principal poems are "Maud," "Idvlls of 
the King," "Enoch Arden," "The Princess," "Locksley 
Hall." Many of his poems are masterpieces of poetic 
genius and all of them are finished and artistic. This 
is especially true of his lyrics, such as the "Bugle Song" 
and the "Cradle Song." 

Margaret Vandergrift is the pen name under which 
Margaret Janvier, an American novelist and poet, wrote. 
She w^as born in New Orleans in 1844, and has published 
some stories for girls and a number of poems. 

John Greenleaf Whittier was born in the town of 
Haverhill, Mass., on Dec. 17, 1807, and died in 1892. 
He is known as the "Quaker poet" and also as the "poet 
of freedom." Poverty stood in the way of an education, 
but by wide and well-chosen reading he complemented 
his rather meagre schooling. That he was never robust 
in health was probably due to the hard work and expos- 
ure of his boyhood on his father's farm, but his spirit 
was strong. 

He allied himself with the cause of freedom and wrote 
many anti-slavery poems. "Voices of Freedom" ap- 
peared in 1849. Another collection, "House Ballads," 
includes "Maud Muller," "Barefoot Boy," "Angels of 
Buena Vista," "Skipper Ireson's Ride." "Barbara 
Frietchie" appeared in the collection entitled "In War 
Time" and is one of his best known poems. 

Whittier's greatest fame is as a writer of stories in 
verse, and as a writer of lyrics, some of which are among 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 81 

the most beautiful in our language. "Snow-Bound" is 
a vivid portrayal of New England life. 

William Wordsworth, one of the foremost of English 
poets, was born at Cockermouth among the hills of 
northwestern England in 1770. After his graduation 
from Cambridge University in 1791 he went to France. 
While there he became ardently interested in the cause 
of the French Revolution but was prevented by his friends 
from joining the revolutionists. After a period of travel 
he settled in the lake region of England, where he spent 
the greater part of his long life in a close friendship 
with Coleridge, Southey and other writers. 

In his poems Wordsworth shows a keen delight in 
nature and a sympathy with common life. While his 
poems are uneven in quality some of them are among 
the finest verse of the English language. His "Ode on 
Intimations of Immortality" has been called the "high 
water mark of poetry " in the nineteenth century. 

Wordsworth was appointed Poet Laureate in 1843 and 
died in 1850. 



INDEX BY TITLES 



All Things Bright and Beautiful 
America 

Barefoot Boy, The 

Bluebird, The 

Bobolink 

Boy's Song, A 

Brown Thrush, The 



Calling the Violet 

Children's Hour, The 

Child's Prayer, A 

Columbia the Gem of the Ocean 

Dutch Lullaby, A 

Fairy Folk 

Foreign Children ....;.. 
Fraidie-Cat 



Alexander 
Smith . . 

Whittier 
Miller . 
Scollard 
Hogg . 
Larcom 



Larcom . 

Longfellow 

Edwards 



Field 



Allingham 
Stevenson 
Scollard . 



PAGE 

11 
31 

63 
61 
44 
40 
26 

41 

57 
39 

48 

23 

50 
16 
46 



He Prayeth Best 

How Many Seconds in a Minute? . 



Coleridge 
Rossetti . 



39 
30 



I Saw a Ship A-Sailing 



20 



Jack Frost . 
Jim Crow . . 
Journey, The 



Lady Moon 
Lucy Gray 



Making a House . 
Marjorie's Almanac 



Gould . . . 

Scollard . . 

Peabody . . 

Houghton . 
Wordsworth 

Peabody . . 

Aldrich . . 



53 
61 

28 

25 

67 

13 
35 



83 



84 



INDEX BY TITLES 



My Shadow Stevenson 

Night Wind, The Field . . 

November Cary . . 



O Lady Moon Rossetti 

O Little Town of Bethlehem .... Brooks 

"One, Two, Three" Bunner 

Owl and the Pussy-Cat, The .... Lear . 



Sandman, The Vandergrift 

September Jackson . 

Seven Times One Ingelow . 

Sweet and Low Tennyson 

Swing, The Stevenson 

Village Blacksmith, The Longfellow 

Visit from St. Nicholas, A Moore 

What Does the Bee Do? Rossetti . 

Where Go the Boats Stevenson 

Who Has Seen the Wind? Rossetti . 

Wind, The Stevenson 

Wind and the Moon, The MacDonald 

Wonderful World, The Rands . . 



PAGE 

32 
52 
38 

14 
36 
22 

27 



Rhymes Mother Goose 17-19 

Rock-a-By Lady Field 12 



46 
54 
25 
63 
33 

55 
43 

14 
15 
13 
14 
58 
29 



INDEX BY AUTHORS 



Aldrich, Thomas Bailey . 
Alexander, Cecil Frances 

Allingham, William . . . 

Brooks, Phillips , 

Bunner, Henry Cuyler . 

Gary, Alice 

Coleridge, Sajviuel Taylor 



PAGE 

Marjorie's Almanac . . 35 
All Things Bright and 

Beautiful 11 

Fairy Folk 50 



O Little Town of Beth- 
lehem 

"One, Two, Three" 

November .... 
He Prayeth Best . 



Edwards, Matilda Betham . . Child's Prayer, A 

Field, Eugene Dutch Lullaby, A 

Night Wmd, The 
Rock-a-By Lady 

Gould, Hannah Flagg Jack Frost . . . 



Hogg, James 

Houghton, Richard Monckton 
Milnes, Lord 

Ingelow", Jean 

Jackson, Helen Hunt 

Larcom, Lucy 

Lear, Edward 

Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth 

85 



. 36 

. 22 

, 38 
39 

39 

23 
52 

12 

53 

40 

25 

25 

54 

Brown Thrush, Tlie . . 26 

Calling the Violet ... 41 
Owl and the Pussy-Gat, 

The 27 

Children's Hour, The . 57 

Village Blacksmith, The 55 



Boy's Song, A . 
Lady Moon . . 
Seven Times One 
September . . . 



INDEX BY AUTHORS 



PAGE 



MacDonald, George Wind and the Moon, The 58 

Miller, Emily Huntington . . Bluebird, The ... 61 

Moore, Clement Clarke . . . Visit from St. Nicholas, A 43 

Mother Goose Rhymes 17-19 



Peabody, Josephine Preston 



Rands, William Brighty 
Rossetti, Christina G. 



Journey, The . . 
Making a House . 



28 
13 



Scollard, Clinton 



Smith, Samuel Francis 
Stevenson, Robert Louis 



Wonderful World, The 29 
How Many Seconds in a 

Mmute? 30 

O Lady Moon .... 14 

What Does the Bee Do? 14 

Who Has Seen the Wind? 13 

Bobolink 44 

Fraidie-Cat 46- 

Jim Crow 61 

America 31 

Foreign Children ... 16 

My Shadow 32 

Swing, The 33 

Where go the Boats . . 15 

Wind, The 14 



Tennyson, Alfred. Lord , , 

Vandergrift, Margaret . . 

Whittier, John Greenleaf 
Wordsworth, William . . . 



Sweet and Low 



Sandman, The 



63 



46 



Barefoot Boy, The . . 63 

Lucy Gray 67 

Columbia the Gem of 

the Ocean 48 

I saw a Ship A-Sailing 20 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 

FIFTH YEAR 

Selections for Memorizing 3 

Memory Gems 18 

History Selections for Collateral Reading .... 20 

SIXTH YEAR 

Selections for Memorizing 33 

Memory Gems 45 

History Selections for Collateral Reading .... 47 

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 70 

INDEX BY TITLES 83 

INDEX BY AUTHORS 85 



IX 



BOOK TWO 



FIFTH YEAR 



SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 

ROBERT OF LINCOLN * 

Merrily s^^^nging on brier and weed, 
Near to the nest of his httle dame, 
Over the mountainside or mead, 

Robert of Lincoln is telUng his name, 
"Bob-o'-hnk, bob-o'-hnk, 
Spink, spank, spink. 
Snug and safe is that nest of ours. 
Hidden among the summer flowers. 
Cliee, chee, chee!" 

Robert of Lincoln is gayly dressed. 

Wearing a bright, black wedding-coat; 
White are his shoulders, and white his crest, 
Hear him call in his merry note, 
"Bob-o'-hnk, bob-o'-link, 
Spink, spank, spink. 
Look what a nice new coat is mine; 
Sure, there was never a bird so fine. 
Chee, chee, chee!" 

Robert of Lincoln's Quaker wife. 

Pretty and quiet, with plain brown wings. 

Passing at home a patient life, 

Broods in the grass while her husband sings, 

3 



FIFTH YEAR 

"Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, 

Spink, spank, spink, 
Brood, kind creature; you need not fear 
Thieves and robbers while I am here. 

Chee, chee, cheeT' 

Modest and sh}^ as a nun is she; 

One weak chirp is her only note; 
Braggart, and prince of braggarts is he, 
Pouring boasts from his httle throat, 
"Bob-o'-Unk, bob-o'-hnk, 
Spink, spank, spink. 
Never was I afraid of man, 
Catch me, cowardly knaves, if you can. 
Chee, chee, chee!" 

Six white eggs on a bed of hay. 

Flecked with purple, a pretty sight; 
There, as the mother sits all day, 
Robert is singing with all his might, 
"Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, 
Spink, spank, spink, 
Nice good wife that never goes out. 
Keeping house while I frolic about. 
Chee, chee, chee!" 

Soon as the little ones chip the shell, 
Six wide mouths are open for food; 
Robert of Lincoln bestirs him well. 
Gathering seeds for the himgry brood; 
"Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, 
Spink, spank, spink, 
This new life is likely to be 
Hard for a gay young fellow like me. 
Chee, chee, chee!" 



SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 

Robert of Lincoln at length is made 

Sober with work, and silent with care; 
Off is his holiday garment laid, 
Half forgotten that merry air, 
"Bob-o'-hnk, bob-o'-link, 
Spink, spank, spink, 
Nobodv knows, but mv mate and I, 
Where our nest and our nestlings lie. 
Chee, chee, chee!" 

Summer wanes, the children are grown, 

Fun and frolic no more he knows, 
Robert of Lincoln's a humdrum crone, 
Off he flies and we sing as he goes, 
"Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, 
Spink, spank, spink, 
When you can pipe that merry old strain, 
Robert of Lincoln, come back again. 
Chee, chee, chee!" 

William Cullen Bryant. 

By permission of D. Appleton & Company. 



THE TREE 

The Tree's early leaf buds were bursting their brown; 

*' Shall I take them away?" said the Frost, sweeping 
down. 

"No, leave them alone 

Till the blossoms have grown," 

Praved the Tree, while he trembled from rootlet to crown. 



The Tree bore his blossoms, and all the birds sung; 
"Shall I take them away?" said the Wind as he swung. 



FIFTH YEAR 



i( 



No, leave them alone 
Till the berries have grown," 
Said the Tree, while his leaflets quivering hung. 

The Tree bore his fruit in the midsummer glow; 
Said the girl, "May I gather thy berries now?" 

"Yes, all thou canst see; 

Take them: all are for thee," 
Said the Tree, while he bent down his laden boughs low. 

Bjornstjerne Bjornson. 

By permission of Houghton, Mifflin Company. 



TO-DAY 

Here hath been dawning 

Another blue day: 
Think, wilt thou let it 

Slip useless away? 

Out of Eternity 

This new day was born; 
Into Eternity 

At night, will return. 

Behold it aforetime 

No eye ever did; 
So soon it forever 

From all eyes is hid. 

Here hath been dawning 

Another blue day: 
Think, wilt thou let it 

Slip useless away? 

Thomas Carlyle. 



SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 7 

OLD IRONSIDES 1 

Ay, tear her tattered ensign down! 

Long has it waved on high, 
And many an eye has danced to see 

That banner in the sky; 
Beneath it rung the battle shout. 

And burst the cannon's roar; — 
The meteor of the ocean air 

Shall sweep the clouds no more. 

Her deck, once red with heroes' blood. 

Where knelt the vanquished foe, 
TOien winds were hurrying o'er the flood, 

And waves were white below. 
No more shall feel the victor's tread. 

Or know the conquered knee; — 
The harpies of the shore shall pluck 

The eagle of the sea ! 

Oh, better that her shattered hulk 

Should sink beneath the wave; 
Her thunders shook the mighty deep, 

And there should be her grave; 
Nail to the mast her holy flag. 

Set everv threadbare sail. 
And give her to the god of storms. 

The lightning and the gale! 

Oliver Wendell Holmes. 

1 Also designated for Collateral Reading in connection with 
Sixth Year History. 



8 FIFTH YEAR 



OCTOBER'S BRIGHT BLUE WEATHER 

O SUNS and skies and clouds of June, 
And flowers of June together, 
Ye cannot rival for one hour 
October's bright blue weather. 

When loud the bumble-bee makes haste, 

Belated, thriftless vagrant, 

And golden-rod is dying fast. 

And lanes with grapes are fragrant; 

When gentians roll their fringes tight 
To save them for the morning, 
And chestnuts fall from satin burrs 
Without a sound of warning; 

When on the ground red apples lie 
In piles like jewels shining, 
And redder still on old stone walls 
Are leaves of woodbine twining; 

When all the lovely wayside things 
Their white-winged seeds are sowing, 
And in the fields, still green and fair. 
Late aftermaths are growing; 

When springs run low, and on the brooks, 
In idle golden freighting. 
Bright leaves sink noiseless in the hush 
Of woods, for winter waiting; 

When comrades seek sweet country haunts, 
By twos and twos together, 
n And count like misers hour l)v hour, 

October's bright blue weather. 



SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 9 

O suns and skies and flowers of June, 
Count all your boasts together, 
Love loveth best of all the year 
October's bright blue weather. 

Helen Hunt Jackson. 

By permission of Little, Brown & Co, 



THE SHIP OF STATE 

From " The Building of the Skip 



J) 



Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State! 

Sail on, O Union, strong and great! 

Humanity with all its fears. 

With all the hopes of future years, 

Is hanging breathless on thy fate! 

We know what blaster laid thv keel. 

What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel, 

Who made each mast, and sail, and rope, 

What anvils rang, what hammers beat. 

In what a forge and what a heat 

Were shaped the anchors of thy hope! 

Fear not each sudden sound and shock, 

'Tis of the wave and not the rock; 

'Tis but the flapping of the sail. 

And not the rent made by the gale! 

In spite of rock and tempests' roar, 

In spite of false lights on the shore. 

Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea! 

Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee, 

Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, 

Our faith triumphant o'er our fears. 

Are all with thee, — are all with thee ! 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 

By permission of Houghton, Mifflin Company. 



10 FIFTH YEAR 

THE BUILDERS 

All are architects of Fate, 

Working in these walls of Time; 

Some with massive deeds and great, 
Some with ornaments of rhyme. 

Nothing useless is, or low; 

Each thing in its place is best; 
And what seems but idle show 

Strengthens and supports the rest. 

For the structure that we raise, 
Time is with materials filled; 
Our to-da^' s and yesterdays 

t^ k/ f 

Are the blocks with which we build. 

Truly shape and fashion these; 

Leaye no yawning gaps between; 
Think not, because no man sees. 

Such things will remain unseen. 

In the elder days of Art, 

Builders wrought with greatest care 
Each minute and unseen part; 

For the Gods see eyerywhere. 

Let us do our work as well, 
Both the unseen and the seen; 

Make the house, where Gods may dwells 
Beautiful, entire, and clean. 

Else our liyes are incomplete, 
Standing in these walls of Time, 

Broken stairways, where the feet 
Stumble as they seek to climh 



SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 11 

Build to-day, then, strong and sure, 

With a firm and ample base; 
And ascending and secure 

Shall to-morrow find its place. 

Thus alone can we attain 

To those turrets, where the eye 
Sees the world as one vast plain, 

And one boundless reach of sky. 

Henry W.u)sworth Longfellow. 



HOME, SWEET HOME 

'Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, 
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home; 
A charm from the sky seems to hallow us there. 
Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with else- 
where. 

Home, home, sweet, sweet home! 
There's no place like home! there's no place like home! 

An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain; 

O, give me my lowly thatched cottage again! 

The birds singing gayly, that came at my call, — 

Give me them, — and the peace of mind, dearer than all ! 

Home, home, sweet, sweet home ! 
There's no place like home! there's no place like home! 

How sweet 'tis to sit 'neath a fond father's smile, 
And the cares of a mother to soothe and beguile! 
Let others delight 'mid new pleasures to roam. 
But give me, oh, give me, the pleasures of home! 

Home, home, sweet, sw^eet home! 
There's no place like home! there's no place like home! 



12 FIFTH YEAR 

To thee I'll return, overburdened with care; 
The heart's dearest solace will smile on me there; 
No more from that cottage again will I roam; 
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home. 

Home ! home ! sweet, sweet home ! 
There's no place like home! there's no place like home! 

John Howard Payne. 



WARREN'S ADDRESS TO THE AMERICAN 

SOLDIERS 1 

Stand! the ground's your own, my braves! 
Will ye give it up to slaves? 
Will ye look for greener graves? 

Hope ye mercy still? 
What's the mercy despots feel? 
Hear it in that battle-peal! 
Read it on yon bristling steel! 

Ask it, — ye who will. 

Fear ye foes who kill for hire? 
Will ye to your homes retire? 
Look behind you! they're afire! 

And, before you, see 
Who have done it ! — From the vale 
On they come! — And will ye quail? — 
Leaden rain and iron hail 

Let their welcome be! 

In the God of battles trust! 

Die we may, — and die we must; 

* Also designated for Collateral Reading in connection wit h 
Sixth Year History. 



SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 13 

But, oh, where can dust to dust 

Be consigned so well. 
As where Heaven its dews shall shed 
On the martyred patriot's bed. 
And the rocks shall raise their head, 

Of his deeds to tell ! 

John Pierpont. 



LULLABY FOR TITANLA. 

From " A Midsummer Nighfs Dream 
First Fairy 



jj 



You spotted snakes with double tongue, 
Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen; 
Newts and blind-worms, do no wrong, 
Come not near our fairy queen. 

Chorus 

Philomel, with melody 

Sing in our sweet lullaby; 

Lulla, luUa, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby! 

Never harm. 

Nor spell, nor charm. 

Come our lovely lady nigh! 

So good-night, with lullaby. 

Second Fairy 

Weaving spiders, come not here; 
Hence, you long-legg'd spinners, hence; 
Beetles black, approach not near; 
Worni, nor snail, do no offence. 



14 FIFTH YEAR 



Chorus 



Philomel, with melody 

Sing in our sweet lullaby; 

Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby! 

Never harm, 

Nor spell, nor charm. 

Come our lovely lady nigh! 

So good-night, with lullaby. 

\yiLLiAM Shakespeare. 



THE BLUE JAY 

Blue Jay up in the maple-tree, 

Shaking your throat with such bursts of glee, 

How did you happen to be so blue? 
Did you steal a bit of the lake for your crest, 
And fasten blue violets into your vest? 

Tell me, I pray you, — tell me true! 

Did you dip your wings in azure dye. 
When April began to paint the sky. 

That was pale with the winter's stay? 
Or were 3^ou hatched from a blue-bell bright, 
'Neath the warm, gold breast of a sunbeam light. 

By the river one blue spring day? ^ 

O Blue Jay up in the maple-tree, 
A-tossing your saucy head at me. 

With ne'er a word for my questioning, 
Pray, cease for a moment your " ting-a-link,'' 
And hear when I tell you what I think, — 

You bonniest bit of spring. 



SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 15 

I think when the fairies made the flowers, 
To grow in these mossy fields of ours, 

Periwinkles and violets rare, 
There was left of the spring's own color, blue. 
Plenty to fashion a flower whose hue 

Would be richer than all and as fair. 

So, putting their wits together, they 
Made one great blossom so bright and gay, 

The lily beside it seemed blurred: 
And then they said, "We will toss it in air; 
So many blue blossoms grow everywhere. 

Let this pretty one be a bird!" 

Susan Hartley Swett. 

By permission of Dana Estes & Co. 



THE BROOK 

I COME from haunts of coot and hern, 

I make a sudden sally, 
And sparkle out among the fern. 

To bicker down the valley. 

By thirty hills I hurrv down. 
Or slip between the ridges. 

By twenty thorps, a little town. 
And half a hundred bridges. 

Till last by Philip's farm I flow 
To join the brimming river; 

For men may come, and men may go, 
But I go on forever. 



16 FIFTH YEAR 

I chatter over stony ways, 
In little sharps and trebles, 

I bubble into eddying bays, 
I babble on the pebbles. 

With many a curve my banks I fret 
By many a field and fallow. 

And many a fairy foreland set 
With willow-weed and mallow. 

I chatter, chatter as I flow 
To join the brimming river; 

For men may come, and men may go, 
But I go on forever. 

I wind about, and in and out, 
With here a blossom sailing, 

And here and there a lusty trout. 
And here and there a grayling, 

And here and there a foamy flake 

Upon me, as I travel. 
With many a silvery waterbreak 

Above the golden gravel. 

And draw them all along, and flow 
To join the brimming river; 

For men may come, and men may go. 
But I go on forever. 

I steal by lawns and grassy plots, 

I slide by hazel covers, 
I move the sweet forget-me-nots 

That grow for happy lovers. 



SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 17 

I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance, 

Among my skimming swallows; 
I make the netted sunbeam dance 

Against my sandy shallows. 

I murmur under moon and stars 

In brambly wildernesses; 
I linger by my shingly bars, 

I loiter round mv cresses. 

And out again I curve and flow 

To join the brimming river; 
For men may come, and men may go, 

But I go on forever. 

Alfred, Lord Tennyson. 



MEMORY GEMS 

Pleasure comes through toil; when one gets to love 
his work, his life is a happy one. ' 

RUSKIN. 



He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty; and 
he that ruleth his spirit, than he that taketh a city. - 

The Bible. 



The best hearts are always the bravest. 

Sterne. 



Our life is what our thoughts make it. ^ 



Do not make a weak excuse, 
Waiting, weak, unsteady; 
All obedience worth the name 
Must be prompt and ready. 



Truth lies at the bottom of the well. 



Handsome is that handsome does. 

Goldsmith. 



Count that day lost whose low descending sun 
Views from thy hand no worthy action done. 

18 



MEMORY GEMS .r^ ,; , .- ' ^-^ A 

So nigh is grandeur to our dust, 

So near to God is man, 

When Duty whispers low, "Thou must," 

The youth rephes "I can." 

Emerson. 

A FRIEND in need is a friend indeed. 



One cannot always be a hero, 
But one can always be a man. 

Goethe. 

Our to-days and yesterdays are the blocks with which 
we build. 

Longfellow. 

A MERRY heart doeth good like a medicine. 

The Bible. 

I DO not think much of the man who is not wiser to-day 
than he was yesterday. 

Lincoln. 

Honor and shame from no condition rise; 
Act well your part, there all the honor lies. 

Pope. 

Be not simply good; be good for something. 

Thoreau. 



HISTORY SELECTIONS FOR COLLATERAL 

READING 

THE SKELETON IN ARMOR 

"Speak! speak! thou fearful guest! 
Who, with thy hollow breast 
Still in rude armor drest, 

Comest to daunt me! 
Wrapt not in Eastern balms, 
But with thy fleshless palms 
Stretched, as if asking alms. 

Why dost thou haunt me? " 

Then from those cavernous eyes 
Pale flashes seemed to rise, 
As when the Northern skies 

Gleam in December; 
And like the water's flow 
Under December's snow, 
Came a dull voice of woe 

From the heart's chamber. 

" I was a Viking old ! 

My deeds, though manifold, 

No Skald in song has told, 

No Saga taught thee! 
Take heed that in thv verse 
Thou dost the tale rehearse. 
Else dread a dead man's curse; 

For this I sought thee. 
20 



HISTORY SELECTIONS FOR COLLATERAL READING 21 

" Far in the Northern land, 
By the wild Baltic's strand, 
I, with my childish hand, 

Tamed the gerfalcon; 
And, with my skates fast-bound, 
Skimmed the half-frozen sound. 
That the poor whimpering hound 

Trembled to walk on. 

"Oft to his frozen lair 
Tracked I the grisly bear. 
While, from my path the hare 

Fled like a shadow; 
Oft through the forest dark 
Followed the were-wolf 's bark, 
Until the soaring lark 

Sang from the meadow. 

"But when I older grew. 
Joining a corsair's crew, 
O'er the dark sea I flew 

With the marauders. 
Wild was the life we led; 
Many the souls that sped. 
Many the hearts that bled. 

By our stern orders. 

"Many a wassail-bout 
Wore the long winter out; 
Often our midnight shout 

Set the cocks crowing. 
As we the Berserk's tale 
Measured in cups of ale. 
Draining the oaken pail 

Filled to o'erflowing. 



22 FIFTH YEAR 

"Once as I told in glee 
Tales of the storm}' sea, 
Soft eyes did gaze on me, 
Burning yet tender; 
And as the white stars shine 
On the dark Norway pine. 
On that dark heart of mine 
Fell their soft splendour. 

"I wooed the blue-eyed maid, 
Yielding, yet half afraid. 
And in the forest's shade . 

Our vows were plighted. 
Under its loosened vest 
Fluttered her little breast. 
Like birds within their nest 

By the hawk frighted. 

"Bright in her father's hall 
Shields gleamed upon the wall. 
Loud sang the minstrels all. 

Chanting his glory; 
When of old Hildebrand 
I asked his daughter's hand, 
Mute did the minstrels stand 

To hear my story. 

"While the brown ale he quaffed. 
Loud then the champion laughed. 
And as the wind-gusts waft 

The sea-foam brightly, 
So the loud laugh of scorn. 
Out of those lips unshorn, 
From the deep drinking-horn 

Blew the foam lightly. 



HISTORY SELECTIONS FOR COLLATERAL READING 23 

"She was a Prince's child, 

I but a Viking wild, 

And though she blushed and smiled, 

I was discarded ! 
Should not the dove so white 
Follow the sea-mew's flight? 
Why did they leave that night 

Her nest unguarded? 

" Scarce had I put to sea. 
Bearing the maid with me, — 
Fairest of all was she 

Among the Norsemen ! — 
When on the white sea-strand. 
Waving his armed hand, 
Saw we old Hildebrand, 

With twentv horsemen. 

"Then launched they to the blast. 
Bent like a reed each mast, 
Yet we were gaining fast, 

\Mien the wind failed us; 
And with a sudden flaw 
Came round the gusty Skaw, 
So that our foe we saw 

Laugh as he hailed us. 

"And as to catch the gale 
Round veered the flapping sail; 
^ Death!' was the helmsman's hail, 

' Death without quarter ! ' 
Midships with iron keel 
Struck we her ribs of steel; 
Down her black hulk did reel 

Through the black water! 



24 FIFTH YEAR 

"As with his wings aslant, 
Sails the fierce cormorant, 
Seeking some rocky haunt. 

With his prey laden. 
So toward the open main, 
Beating to sea again. 
Through the wild hurricane, 

Bore I the maiden. 

"Three weeks we westward bore, 
And when the storm was o'er, 
Cloud-like we saw the shore 

Stretching to leeward; 
There for mv ladv's bower 
Built I the loftv tower 
Which to this very hour 

Stands looking seaward. 

"There lived we manv vears; 
Time dried the maiden's tears; 
She had forgot her fears. 

She was a mother; 
Death closed her mild blue eyes; 
Under that tower she lies; 
Ne'er shall the sun arise 

On such another. 

" Still grew my bosom then, 
Still as a stagnant fen ! 
Hateful to me were men. 

The sunlight hateful ! 
In the vast forest here. 
Clad in my warlike gear. 
Fell I upon my spear. 

Oh, death was grateful ! 



HISTORY SELECTIONS FOR COLLATERAL READING 25 

"Thus, seamed with many scars, 
Bursting these prison bars, 
Up to its native stars 

My soul ascended! 
There from the flowing bowl 
Deep drinks the warrior's soul, 
Skoal! to the Northland! skoal!" 

Thus the tale ended. 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 



COLUMBUS 

Behind him lay the gray Azores, 

Behind, the gates of Hercules; 
Before him not the ghost of shores. 

Before him only shoreless seas. 
The good mate said: "Now must we pray, 

For lo! the very stars are gone; 
Brave Adm'r'l, speak; what shall I say?" 

"Why, say, ' Sail on! sail on! and on! " 



"My men grow mutinous day by day; 

My men grow ghastly wan and weak. " 
The stout mate thought of home; a spray 

Of salt wave wash'd his sw^arthy cheek. 
" What shall I say, brave Adm'r'l, say. 

If we sight naught but seas at dawn?" 
"Why, you shall say, at break of day: 

'Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on! ^" 

They sailed and sailed, as winds might blow. 

Until at last the blanched mate said: 
"Why, now not even God would know 
' Should I and all my men fall dead. 



J> 



26 FIFTH YEAR 

These very winds forget their way, 
For God from these dread seas is gone. 

Now speak, brave Adm'r'l; speak, and say 
He said: "Sail on! sail on! and on!" 



They sailed. They sailed. Then spake the mate: 
".This mad sea shows his teeth to-night. 

He curls his lip, he lies in wait, 
With lifted teeth as if to bite! 

Brave Adm'r'l, say but one good word: 
What shall we do when hope is gone? " 

The words leapt as a leaping sword : 
Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!" 



(( 



Then, pale and worn, he kept his deck. 

And peered through darkness. Ah, that night 
Of all dark nights ! And then a speck — 

Alight! Alight! Alight! Alight! 
It grew — a star-lit flag unfurled ! 

It grew to be Time's burst of dawn. 
He gained a world! he gave that world 

Its grandest lesson : "On! sail on!" 

Joaquin Miller. 

From "The Complete Poetical Works of Joaquin Miller," by permis- 
sion of the Whitaker & Ray Company. 



POCAHONTAS 

Wearied arm and broken sword 
Wage in vain the desperate fight; 

Round him press a countless horde, 
He is but a single knight. 



HISTORY SELECTIONS FOR COLLATERAL READING 27 

Hark! a cry of triumph shrill 

Through the wilderness resounds, 
As, with twenty bleeding wounds. 

Sinks the w^arrior, fighting still. 

Now they heap the funeral pyre, 

And the torch of death they light; , 
Ah! 'tis hard to die by fire! 

Who will shield the captive knight? 
Round the stake with fiendish crv 

Wheel and dance the savage crowd; 

Cold the victim's mien and proud, 
And his breast is bared to die. 

Who will shield the fearless heart? 

WTio avert the murderous blade? 
From the throng with sudden start 

See, there springs an Indian maid. 
Quick she stands before the knight: 

" Loose the chain, unbind the ring ! 

I am the daughter of the king. 
And I claim the Indian right!" 

Dauntlessly aside she flings 

Lifted axe and thirsty knife, 
Fondly to his heart she clings. 

And her bosom guards his life! 
In the woods of Powhattan, 

Still 'tis told bv Indian fires 

How a daughter of their sires 
Saved a captive Englishman. 

WiLLiA^i Makepeace Thackeray. 



28 FIFTH YEAR 

LANDING OF THE PILGRIMS 

The breaking waves dashed high 
On a stern and rock-bound coast, 

And the woods against a stormy sky 
Their giant branches tossed. 

And the heavy night hung dark 

The hills and waters o'er, 
When a band of exiles moored their bark 

On the wild New England shore. 

Not as the conqueror comes, 

They, the true-hearted, came; 
Not with the roll of the stirring drums, 

And the trumpet that sings of fame. 

Not as the flying come. 

In silence and in fear; 
They shook the depths of the desert gloom 

With their hymns of lofty cheer. 

Amid the storm they sang, 

And the stars heard, and the sea : 

And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang 
To the anthem of the free! 

The ocean eagle soared 

From his nest by the white wave's foam: 
And the rocking pines of the forest roared, — 

This was their welcome home! 

There were men with hoary hair. 

Amid that pilgrim band; 
Why had they come to wither there. 

Away from their childhood's land? 



HISTORY SELECTIONS FOR COLLATERAL READING 29 

There was woman's fearless eye, 

Lit by her deep love's truth; 
There was manhood's brow serenely high, 

And the fiery heart of youth. 

What sought they thus afar? 

Bright jewels of the mine? 
The wealth of seas, the spoils of war? — 

They sought a faith's pure shrine! 

Ay! call it holy ground. 

The soil where first they trod: 
They have left unstained what there they found. 

Freedom to worship God. 

Felicia Browne Hemans. 



THE CORN-SONG 

Heap high the farmer's wintry hoard! 

Heap high the golden corn! 
No richer gift has Autumn poured 

From out her lavish horn ! 

Let other lands, exulting, glean 

The apple from the pine. 
The orange from its glossy green. 

The cluster from the vine. 

We better love the hardy gift 

Our rugged vales bestow. 
To cheer us when the storm shall drift 

Our harvest-fields with snow. 



30 FIFTH YEAR 

Through vales of grass and meads of flowers, 
Our ploughs their furrows made, 

While on the hills the sun and showers 
Of changeful April played. 

We dropped the seed o'er hill and plain. 

Beneath the sun of May, 
And frightened from our sprouting grain 

The robber crows away. 

All through the long, bright days of June 
Its leaves grew green and fair. 

And waved in hot midsummer's noon 
Its soft and yellow hair. 

And now with autumn's moonlit eves, 

Its harvest-time has come. 
We pluck away the frosted leaves, 

And bear the treasure home. 

There richer than the fabled gift 

Apollo showered of old, 
Fair hands the broken grain shall sift. 

And knead its meal of gold. 

Let vapid idlers loll in silk 

Around their costly board; 
Give us the bowl of samp and milk. 

By homespun beauty poured! 

Where'er the wide old kitchen hearth 

Sends up its smoky curls, 
Who will not thank the kindly earth. 

And bless our farmer girls! 



HISTORY SELECTIONS FOR COLLATERAL READING 31 

Then shame on all the proud and vain, 

Whose folly laughs to scorn 
The blessing of our hardy grain, 

Our wealth of golden corn! 

Let earth withhold her goodly root, 

Let mildew blight the rye, 
Give to the worm the orchard's fruit. 

The wheat field to the fly: 

But let the good old crop adorn 

The hills our fathers trod; 
Still let us for his golden corn. 

Send up our thanks to God! 

John Greenleaf Whittier. 



THE QUAKER OF THE OLDEN TIME 

The Quaker of the olden time! 

How calm and firm and true, 
Unspotted by its wrong and crime, 

He walked the dark earth through. 
The lust of power, the love of gain 

The thousand lures of sin 
Around him, had no power to stain 

The purity within. 

With that deep insight which detects 

All great things in the small, 
And knows how each man's life affects 

The spiritual life of all. 
He walked b}^ faith and not by sight, 

Bv love and not bv law; 
The presence of the wrong or right 

He rather felt than saw. 



32 FIFTH YEAR 

He felt that wrong with wTong partakes, 

That nothing stands alone, 
That whoso gives the motive, makes 

His brother's sin his own. 
And, pausing not for doubtful choice 

Of evils great or small, 
He listened to that inward voice 

Which called awav from all. 

O Spirit of that early day, 

So pure and strong and true, 
Be with us in the narrow way 

Our faithful fathers knew. 
Give strength the evil to forsake, 

The cross of Truth to bear. 
And love and reverent fear to make 

Our daily lives a prayer! 

John Greenleaf Whittier. 



SIXTH YEAR 



SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 

BEFORE THE RAIN 

We knew it would rain, for all the morn, 

A spirit on slender ropes of mist 
Was lowering its golden buckets down 

Into the vapory amethyst 

Of marshes and swamps and dismal fens, 
Scooping the dew that lay in the flowers, 

Dipping the jewels out of the sea, 

To sprinkle them over the land in showers. 

We knew it would rain, for the poplars showed 
The white of their leaves, the amber grain 

Shrunk in the wind — and the lightning now 
Is tangled in tremulous skeins of rain. 

Thomas Bailey Aldrich. 

By permission of Houghton, Mifflin Company. 



THE FLAG GOES BY 

Hats off! 
Along the street there comes 
A blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums, 
A flash of color beneath the sky : 

Hats off! 
The flag is passing by ! 

33 



34 SIXTH YEAR 

Blue and crimson and white it shines 
Over the steel-tipped, ordered lines. 

Hats off! 
The colors before us fly; 
But more than the flag is passing by. 

Sea-fights and land-fights, grim and great, 
Fought to make and to save the State: 
Weary marches and sinking ships; 
Cheers of victory on dying lips; 

Days of plenty and years of peace; 
March of a strong land's swift increase; 
Equal justice, right, and law, 
Statelv honor and reverend aw^e; 

Sign of a nation, great and strong 
To ward her people from foreign wrong; 
Pride and glory and honor, — all 
Live in the colors to stand or fall. 

Hats off! 
Along the street there comes 
A blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums; 
And loval hearts are beating high: 

Hats off! 
The flag is passing by! 

Henry Holcomb Bennett. 

By permission of the author. 



THE YEAR'S AT THE SPRING 

From '^ Pijypa Passes " 

The year's at the spring 
And dav's at the morn; 
Morning's at seven; 



SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 35 

The hillside's dew-pearled; 
The lark's on the wing; 
The snail's on the thorn: 
God's in his heaven — 
All's right with the world! 

Robert Browning. 



CONCORD HYMNi 

SUNG AT THE COMPLETION OF THE BATTLE 
MONUMENT, APRIL 19, 1836 

By the rude bridge that arched the flood, 
Their flag to April's breeze unfurled, 

Here once the embattled farmers stood, 
And fired the shot heard round the world. 

The foe long since in silence slept; 

Alike the conqueror silent sleeps; 
And Time the ruined bridge has swept 

Down the dark stream which seaward creeps. 

On this green bank, by this soft stream, 

We set to-dav a votive stone; 
That memory may their deed redeem. 

When, like our sires, our sons are gone. 

Spirit, that made those heroes dare 
To die, and leave their children free, 

Bid Time and Nature gently spare 
The shaft w^e raise to them and thee. 

Ralph Waldo Emerson. 

* Also designated for Collateral Reading in connection with 
Sixth Year History. 



36 SIXTH YEAR 

THE FIRST SNOW-FALL 

The snow had begun in the gloaming, 

And busily all the night 
Had been heaping field and highway 

With a silence deep and white. 

Every pine and fir and hemlock 
Wore ermine too dear for an earl, 

And the poorest twig on the elm tree 
Was ridged inch deep with pearl. 

From sheds new-roofed with Carrara 

Came Chanticleer's muffled crow; 
The stiff rails softened to swan's-down, 
'And still fluttered down the snow. 

I stood and watched by the window 
The noiseless work of the sky. 

And the sudden flurries of snow-birds, 
Like brown leaves whirling by. 

I thought of a mound in sweet Auburn 
Where a little headstone stood; 

How the flakes were folding it gently. 
As did robins the babes in the wood. 

Up spoke our own little Mabel, 

Saying, " Father, who makes it snow? " 

And I told of the good x\ll-father 
Who cares for us here below. 

Again I looked at the snow-fall 
And thought of the leaden sky 

That arched o'er our first great sorrow. 
When that mound was heaped so high. 



SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 37 

I remembered the gradual patience 
That fell from that cloud like snow, 

Flake by flake, healing and hiding 
The scar that renewed our woe. 

And again to the child I whispered, 

"The snow that husheth all, 
Darling, the merciful Father 

Alone can make it fall ! " 



Then, with eyes that saw not, I kissed her. 
And she, kissing back, could not know 

That my kiss was given to her sister, 
Folded close under deepening snow. 

James Russell Lowell. 



THE COMING OF SPRING 

There's something in the air 
That's new and sweet and rare — 

A scent of summer things, 
A whir as if of wings. 

There's something, too, that's new 

In the color of the blue 
That's in the morning sky, 

Before the sun is high. 

And though on plain and hill, 

'Tis winter, winter still. 
There's something seems to say 

That winter's had its day. 



38 SIXTH YEAR 

And all this changing tint, 
This whispering stir and hint 

Of bud and bloom and wing, 
Is the coming of the spring. 

And to-morrow or to-day « 

The brooks will break away 
From their icy, frozen sleep, 

And run and laugh and leap ! 

And the next thing, in the woods. 

The catkins in their hoods 
Of fur and silk will stand, 

A sturdy little band. 

And the tassels soft and fine 

Of the hazel will entwine. 
And the elder branches show 

Their buds against the snow. 

So, silently, but swift. 

Above the wintry drift, 
The long days gain and gain. 

Until, on hill and plain, — 

Once more, and yet once more, 

Returning as before, 
We see the bloom of birth 

Make young again the earth. 

Nora Perry 

SHERIDAN'S RIDE ^ 

Up from the south at break of dav, 
Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay, 

* Also designated for Collateral Reading in connection with 
Sixth Year History. 



SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 39 

The affrighted air with a shudder bore, 
Like a herald in haste, to the chieftain's door, 
The terrible grumble, and rumble and roar, 
Telling the battle was on once more, 
And Sheridan twenty miles away. 

And wider still those billows of war 

Thundered along the horizon's bar, 

And louder yet into Winchester rolled 

The roar of that red sea uncontrolled, 

^Making the blood of the listener cold 

As he thought of the stake in that fiery fray, 

With Sheridan twent}' miles away. 

But there is a road from Winchester town, 

A good broad highway leading down; 

And there, through the flash of the morning light, 

A steed as black as the steeds of night 

Was seen to pass as with eagle flight; 

As if he knew the terrible need. 

He stretched away with the utmost speed; 

Hills rose and fell — but his heart was gay. 

With Sheridan fifteen miles away. 

Still sprung from those swift hoofs, thundering south. 
The dust, like smoke from the cannon's mouth ; 
Or the trail of a comet, sweeping faster and faster. 
Foreboding to traitors the doom of disaster. 
The heart of the steed and the heart of the master 
Were beating like prisoners assaulting their walls, 
Impatient to be where the battle field calls; 
Every nerve of the charger was strained to full play, 
With Sheridan only ten miles away. 

Under his spurning feet the road 
Like an arrowy Alpine river flowed, 



40 SIXTH YEAR 

And the landscape flowed away behind, 

Like an ocean flying before the wind; 

And the steed, hke a bark fed with furnace ire, 

Swept on with his wild eyes full of fire; 

But lo! he is nearing his heart's desire. 

He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray, 

With Sheridan only five miles away. 



The first that the General saw were the groups 

Of stragglers, and then the retreating troops. 

What was done — what to do — A glance told him both. 

Then, striking his spurs, with a terrible oath. 

He dashed down the line, 'mid a storm of huzzas, 

And the wave of retreat checked its course there, because 

The sight of the master compelled it to pause. 

With foam and with dust the black charger was gray, 

By the flash of his eye and the red nostril's play 

He seemed to the whole great army to say: 

" I have brought you Sheridan all the way 

From Winchester town to save the day!" 



Hurrah ! hurrah ! for Sheridan ! 
Hurrah ! hurrah ! for horse and man ! 
And when their statues are placed on high, 
Under the dome of the Union sky — 
The American soldier's Temple of Fame — 
There with the glorious General's name. 
Be it said, in letters both bold and bright: 
" Here is the steed that saved the day. 
By carrying Sheridan into the fight. 
From Winchester, twenty miles away!" 

Thomas Buchanan Read. 

By permission of the J. B. Lippincott Company. 



SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 41 

PUCK AND THE FAIRY 



From " A Midsummer Nighfs Dream 



)) 



Puck. How now, spirit I whither wander you? 
Fairy. Over hill, over dale. 

Thorough bush, thorough brier, 
Over park, over pale. 

Thorough flood, thorough fire, 
I do wander everywhere. 
Swifter than the moon's sphere; 
And I serve the fairy queen, 
To dew her orbs upon the green. 
The cowslips tall her pensioners be; 
In their gold coats, spots you see; 
These be rubies, fairy favors, 
In those freckles live their savors: 
I must go seek some dewdrops here. 
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear. 
Farewell, thou lob of spirits; I'll be gone: 
Our queen and all her elves come here anon. 

William Shakespeare. 

THE QUALITY OF ]MERCY 

From " The Merchant of Venice " 

The quality of mercy is not strain 'd. 
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven 
Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest: 
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes. 
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes 
The throned monarch better than his crown. 
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, 
The attribute to awe and majesty. 
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; 



42 SIXTH YEAR 

But mercy is above the sceptred sway; 
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings; 
It is an attribute to God himself; 
And earthly power doth then show likest God's 
When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, 
Though justice be thy plea, consider this, 
That, in the course of justice, none of us 
Should see salvation. We do pray for mercy, 
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render 
The deeds of mercy. 

W^iLLiAM Shakespeare. 

MAY 

May shall make the world anew; 
Golden sun and silver dew, 
Money minted in the sky, 
Shall the earth's new garments buy. 
May shall make the orchards bloom; 
And the blossoms' fine perfume 
Shall set all the honey-bees 
Murmuring among the trees. 
May shall make the bud appear 
Like a jewel, crystal clear, 
'Mid the leaves upon the limb 
Where the robin lilts his hvmn. 
May shall make the wild flowers tell 
Where the shining sno\\^akes fell; 
Just as though each sno\\^ake's heart, 
By some secret, magic art. 
Were transmuted to a flower 
In the sunlight and the shower. 
Is there such another, pray. 
Wonder-making month as May? 

Frank Dempster Sherman. 

By permission of Houghton, Mifflin Company. 



SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 43 

JULY 

When the scarlet cardinal tells 

Her dream to the dragon fly, 
And the lazy breeze makes a nest in the trees, 

And murmurs a lullaby, 
It is July. 

When the tangled cobweb pulls 

The cornflower's cap awTy, 
And the lilies tall lean over the wall 

To bow to the butterfly, 
It is July. 

When the heat like a mist-veil floats. 

And poppies flame in the rye, 
And the silver note in the streamlet's throat 

Has softened almost to a sigh. 
It is July. 

When the hours are so still that time 

Forgets them, and lets them lie 
'Neath petals pink till the night stars wink 

At the sunset in the sky, 
It is July. 

When each finger-post by the way 
Says that Slumbertown is nigh; 
And the grass is tall, and the roses fall 
And nobody wonders why. 
It is July. 

Susan Hartley Swett. 

By permission of Dana Estes & Co. 



44 SIXTH YEAR 



THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE 

Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, 
As his corse to the rampart we hurried; 
Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot 
O'er the grave where our hero we buried. 

We buried him darkly at dead of night, 
The sods with our bayonets turning; 
By the struggling moonbeam's misty light. 
And the lantern dimly burning. 

No useless coffin enclosed his breast. 
Nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him; 
But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, 
With his martial cloak around him. 

Few and short were the prayers we said, 

And we spoke not a word of sorrow; 

But we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead. 

And we bitterly thought of the morrow. 

We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed, 

And smoothed down his lonely pillow, 

That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, 

And we far away on the billow ! 

Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, 
And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him; 
But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on 
In the grave where a Briton has laid him. 

But half of our heavy task was done. 
When the clock tolled the hour for retiring; 



SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 45 

And we heard the distant and random gun 
That the foe was sullenly firing. 

Slowlv and sadlv we laid him down, 
From the field of his fame fresh and gory; 
We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, 
But we left him alone with his glory ! 

Charles Wolfe. 



MEMORY GEMS 

Have vou had a kindness shown? Pass it on. 

'Twas not given for you alone — pass it on. 

Let it travel down the years, 

Let it wipe another's tears, 

Till in heaven the deed appears — pass it on. 



No one can disgrace us but ourselves. 

Holland. 

Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever. 
Do noble things, not dream them all day long; 
And so make life, death and that vast forever 
One grand, sweet. song. 

Kingsley. 

Howe'er it be, it seems to me, 
'Tis only noble to be good. 
Kind hearts are more than coronets, 
And simple faith than Norman blood. 

Tennyson. 

No man can produce great things who is not thoroughly 
sincere in dealing with himself. 



46 SIXTH YEAR 

For truth has such a face and such a mien 
As to be lov'd needs only to be seen. 

Dryden. 

Cato said the best way to keep good acts in memory 
was to refresh them with new. 

Bacon. 

Cheerfulness costs nothing and yet it is invaluable. 

Diligence is the mother of good luck. 

Franklin. 

He who has a thousand friends 
Has not a friend to spare, 
And he who has an enemy 
Shall meet him ever^nyhere. 



A GOOD name is to be chosen rather than riches, and 
loving favor rather than silver and gold. 

The Bible. 

Not he who boasts of his country, but he who does 
something to make his country better, is the real patriot. 



Oh wad some power the giftie gie us 
To see oursel's as others see us! i' 

It wad frae monie a blunder free us, 
And foolish notion. 

Burns. 



HISTORY SELECTIONS FOR COLLATERAL 

READING 

THE WAR INEVITABLE 

It is natural for man to indulge in the illusions of hope; 
we are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, and 
listen to the song of that siren till she transforms us into 
beasts. Is this the part of wise men engaged in a great 
and arduous struggle for liberty? Are we disposed to 
be of the number of those who, having eyes, see not, and 
having ears, hear not, the things which so nearly con- 
cern our temporal salvation? For my part, whatever 
anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to know the 
whole truth; to know the worst, and to provide for it. 

I have but one lamp, by w^hich my feet are guided; 
and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way 
of judging of the future but by the past. And judging 
from the past, I wish to know w^hat there has been in the 
conduct of the British ministrv for the last ten vears to 
justify those hopes with which gentlemen have been 
pleased to solace themselves and this House? Is it that 
insidious smile with which our petition has been lately 
received? Trust it not, sir, it will prove a snare to your 
feet; suffer not vourselves to be betraved with a kiss. 
Ask yourselves how this gracious reception of our peti- 
tion comports with those warlike preparations which 
cover our waters and darken our land. Are fleets and 
armies necessarv to a work of love and reconciliation? 
Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled, 
that force must be called in to win back our love? Let 

47 



48 SIXTH YEAR 

US not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the implements 
of war and subjugation, and the last arguments to which 
kings resort. I ask the gentlemen, what means this 
martial array, if its purpose be not to force us to sub- 
mission? . Can gentlemen assign any other possible 
motive for it? Has Great Britain anv enemv in this 
quarter of the world, to call for all this accumulation of 
navies and armies? No, sir, she has none. They are 
meant for us: they can be meant for no other. They 
are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains 
which the British ministry have been so long forging. 
And what have we to oppose to them? Shall we try 
argument? Sir, we have been trying that for the last 
ten years. Have we anything new to offer upon the 
subject? Nothing. We have held it up in every light 
of which it is capable; but it has been all in vain. Shall 
we resort to entreaty and humble supplication? What 
terms shall we find which have not been already ex- 
hausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, let us not de- 
ceive ourselves any longer. We have done everything 
that could be done to avert the storm which is now com- 
ing on. We have petitioned, we have remonstrated, we 
have supplicated, we have prostrated ourselves before 
the throne, and implored its interposition to arrest the 
tyrannical hands of the ministry and parliament. Our 
petitions have been slighted, our remonstrances have 
produced additional violence and insult, our supplica- 
tions have been disregarded, and we have been spurned 
with contempt from the foot of the throne. In vain, 
after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace 
and reconciliation. There is no longer any room for 
hope. If we wish to be free, if we wish to preserve in- 
violate those inestimable privileges for which we have 
been so long contending, if we mean not basely to aban- 
don the noble struggle in which we have been so long 



HISTORY SELECTIONS FOR COLLATERAL READING 49 

engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to 
abandon until the glorious object of our contest shall 
be obtained, we must fight! I repeat it, sir, we must 
fight! x\n appeal to arms, and to the God of hosts, is 
all that is left us ! 

• ••••••• 

They tell us, sir, that we are w^eak — unable to cope 
with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we 
be stronger? Will it be the next week, or the next year? 
Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a 
British guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall 
we gather strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall 
we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying 
supinely on our backs, and hugging the delusive phantom 
of hope until our enemies shall have bound us hand and 
foot? Sir, we are not weak, if we make a proper use of 
those means which the God of nature hath placed in our 
power. Three millions of people, armed in the holy 
cause of libertv, and in such a countrv as that which we 
possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can 
send against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our 
battles alone. There is a just God who presides over 
the destinies of nations and who will raise up friends to 
fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the 
strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. 
Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base 
enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the 
contest; there is no retreat but in submission and slav- 
ery. Our chains are forged ; their clanking may be heard 
on the plains of Boston; the war is inevitable, and let 
it come; I repeat it, sir, — let it come! It is in vain, 
sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry peace, 
peace! But there is no peace! The war is actually 
begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will 
bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our 



50 SIXTH YEAR 

brethren are already in the field ! \Miy stand we here 
idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would 
they have? Is life so dear, or peace, so sweet, as to 
be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? For- 
bid it. Almighty God! I know not what course others 
may take; but as for me — give me liberty, or give me 
death ! 

Patrick Henry. 

PAUL REVERE'S RIDE 

Listen, my children, and you shall hear 

Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, 

On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five; 

Hardly a man is now alive 

Who remembers that famous day and year. 

He said to his friend, ''If the British march 
By land or sea from the town to-night, 
Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch 
Of the North Church tower as a signal light, — 
One, if by land, and two, if by sea; 
And I on the opposite shore will be. 
Ready to ride and spread the alarm 
Through every IMiddlesex village and farm. 
For the country folk to be up and to arm. '^ 

Then he said, "Good night!" and with muffled oar 

Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore. 

Just as the moon rose over the bay, 

W^here swinging wide at her moorings lay 

The Somerset, British man-of-war; 

A phantom ship, with each mast and spar 

Across the moon like a prison bar. 

And a huge black hulk, that was magnified 

By its own reflection in the tide. 



HISTORY SELECTIONS FOR COLLATERAL READING 51 

Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street, 
Wanders and watches with eager ears, 
Till in the silence around him he hears 
The muster of men at the- barrack door, 
The sound of arms and the tramp of feet, 
And the measured tread of the grenadiers. 
Marching down to their boats on the shore. 

Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church, 

By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread, 

To the belfry-chamber overhead, 

And startled the pigeons from their perch 

On the sombre rafters, that round him made 

Masses and moving shapes of shade, — 

By the trembling ladder, steep and tall, 

To the highest window in the wall, 

Where he paused to listen and look down 

A moment on the roofs of the town, 

And the moonlight flowing over all. 

Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead. 

In their night-encampment on the hill, 

Wrapped in silence so deep and still 

That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread, 

The watchful night-wind, as it went 

Creeping along from tent to tent. 

And seeming to whisper, "All is well!" 

A moment only he feels the spell 

Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread 

Of the lonelv belfrv and the dead; 

For suddenly all his thoughts are bent 

On a shadowy something far away, 

Where the river widens to meet the bay, — 

A line of black that bends and floats 

On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats. 



52 SIXTH YEAR 

Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride, 
Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride 
On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere. 
Now he patted his horse's side, 
Now gazed at the landscape far and near, 
Then, impetuous, stamped the earth, 
And turned and tightened his saddle-girth; 
But mostly he watched with eager search 
The belfry-tower of the Old North Church, 
As it rose above the graves on the hill, 
Lonely and spectral and sombre and still. 
And lo ! as he looks, on the belfry's height , 
A glimmer, and then a gleam of light I 
He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns, 
But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight 
A second lamp in the belfry burns ! 

A hurry of hoofs in a village street, 

A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, 

And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark 

Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet: 

That was all ! And yet, through the gloom and the light. 

The fate of a nation w^as riding that night; 

And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight, 

Kindled the land into flames with its heat. 

He has left the village and mounted the steep. 
And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep, 
Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides; 
And under the alders that skirt its edge. 
Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge, 
Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides. 

It was twelve by the village clock. 

When he crossed the bridge into Medford town. 



HISTORY SELECTIONS FOR COLLATERAL READING 53 

He heard the crowing of the cock, 
And the barking of tlie farmer's dog, 
And felt the damp of the river fog, 
That rises after the sun goes down. 



It was one by the village clock. 

When he galloped into Lexington. 

He saw the gilded weathercock 

Swim in the moonlight as he passed, 

And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare. 

Gaze at hip with a spectral glare, 

As if they already stood aghast 

At the bloody work they would look upon. 

It was two by the village clock. 

When he came to the bridge in Concord town. 

He heard the bleating of the flock. 

And the twitter of birds among the trees. 

And felt the breath of the morning breeze 

Blowing over the meadows brown. 

And one was safe and asleep in his bed 

Who at the bridge would be first to fall, 

Who that day would be lying dead. 

Pierced by a British musket-ball. 



You know the rest. In the books you have read, 
How the British Regulars fired and fled, — 
How the farmers gave them ball for ball. 
From behind each fence and farm-yard wall. 
Chasing the red-coats down the lane. 
Then crossing the fields to emerge again 
Under the trees at the turn of the road. 
And only pausing to fire and load. 



54 SIXTH YEAR 

So through the night rode Paul Revere; 

And so through the night went his cry of alarm 

To every INIiddlesex village and farm, — 

A crv of defiance and not of fear, 

A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door, 

And a word that shall echo forevermore! 

For, borne on the night-wind of the Past, 

Through all our history, to the last. 

In the hour of darkness and peril and need, 

The people will waken and listen to hear 

The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed. 

And the midnight message of Paul Revere. 

Henry Wadsw^orth Longfellow. 



SONG OF MARION'S MEN 

Our band is few, but true and tried, 

Our leader frank and bold; 
The British soldier trembles 

When ]\Iarion's name is told. 
Our fortress is the good greenwood, 

Our tent the cypress-tree; 
We know the forest round us. 

As seamen know the sea. 
We know its walls of thorny vines, 

Its glades of reedy grass. 
Its safe and silent islands 

Within the dark morass. 



Woe to the English soldiery 
That little dread us near! 

On them shall light at midnight 
A strange and sudden fear; 



HISTORY SELECTIONS FOR COLLATERAL READING 55 

When waking to their tents on fire 

They grasp their arms in vain, 
And they who stand to face us 

Are beat to earth again; 
And they who fly in terror deem 

A mighty host behind, 
And hear the tramp of thousands 

Upon the hollow wind. 

Then sweet the hour that brings release 

From danger and from toil: 
We talk the battle over, 

And share the battle's spoil. 
The woodland rings with laugh and shout, 

As if a hunt were up, 
And woodland flowers are gathered 

To crown the soldier's cup. 
With merry songs we mock the wind 

That in the pine-top grieves. 
And slumber long and sweetly. 

On beds of oaken leaves. 



Well knows the fair and friendly moon 

The band that Marion leads — 
The glitter of their rifles, 

The scampering of their steeds. 
'Tis life to guide the fiery barb 

Across the moonlight plain; 
'Tis life to feel the night-wind 

That lifts his tossing mane. 
A moment in the British camp — 

A moment — and away 
Back to the pathless forest. 

Before the peep of day. 



56 ■ SIXTH YEAR 

Grave men there are by broad Santee, 

Grave men with hoarv hairs, 
Their hearts are all with Marion, 

For Marion are their prayers. 
And lovely ladies greet our band, 

With kindliest welcoming, 
With smiles like those of summer, 

And tears like those of spring. 
For them we wear these trusty arms, 

And lav them down no more 
Till we have driven the Briton, 

Forever, from our shore. 

WlLLIAI^I CULLEN BrYANT. 



THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER 

Oh, say, can you see, by the dawn's early light. 

What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last 
gleaming — 
Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the clouds 
of the fight 
O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly 
streaming? 
And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air, 
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there: 
Oh, say, does that Star-Spangled Banner yet wave 
O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave? 

On that shore dimly seen through the mists of the deep, 
Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes. 

What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep, 
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses? 

Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam, 

In full glory reflected now shines on the stream : 



HISTORY SELECTIONS FOR COLLATERAL READING 57 

'Tis the Star-Spangled Banner! Oh, long may it wave 
O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave. 

And where is that band who so vauntingly swore 

That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion 
A home and a country should leave us no more? 
Their blood has washed out their foul footstep's 
pollution. 
No refuge could save the hireling and slave 
From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave: 
And the Star-Spangled Banner in triumph doth wave 
O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave. 

Oh, thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand 

Between their loved homes and the war's desolation. 
Blest with victory and peace, may the heaven-rescued 
land 
Praise the power that hath made and preserved us 
a nation. 
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just, 
And this be our motto — "In God is our trust:" 
And the Star-Spangled Banner in triumph shall wave 
O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave. 

Francis Scott Key. 

REPLY TO HAYNE 

(Last yaragrayh) 

While the Union lasts, we have high, exciting, grati- 
fying prospects spread out before us, for us and for our 
children. Beyond that I seek not to penetrate the veil. 
God grant that, in my day at least, that curtain may not 
rise! God grant that on my vision never may be opened 
what lies behind! When my eyes shall be turned to 
behold, for the last time, the sun in Heaven, may I not 
see him shining on the broken and dishonored fragments 



58 SIXTH YEAR 

of a once glorious Union; on States, severed, discordant, 
belligerent: on a land rent with civil feuds, or drenched, 
it may be, in fraternal blood! Let their last feeble and 
lingering glance, rather, behold the gorgeous ensign of 
the Republic, now known and honored throughout the 
earth, still full high advanced, its arms and trophies 
streaming in their original lustre, not a stripe erased or 
polluted, nor a single star obscured, — bearing, for its 
motto, no such miserable interrogatory as ''What is all 
this worth?" — nor those other words of delusion and 
follv, "Libertv first and Union afterwards," — but 
everyw^here, spread all over in characters of living light, 
blazing on all its ample folds, as they float over the sea 
and over the land, and in everv wind under the whole 
heavens, that other sentiment, dear to every true Amer- 
ican heart, — Liberty and L^nion, now and forever, one 
and inseparable! 

Daniel Webster. 

SECOND INAUGURAL ADDRESS 

{Last paragraph) 

With malice toward none, with charity for all, with 
firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, 
let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up 
the nation's wounds, to care for him who shall have 
borne the battle, and for his widow and his orphans, to 
do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting 
peace among ourselves and with all nations. 

Abrah.\]vi Lincoln. 

BATTLE HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC 

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord; 
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath 
are stored; 



HISTORY SELECTIONS FOR COLLATERAL RE.\DING 59 

He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift 
sword : 

His truth is marching on. 

I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling 
camps; 

They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews 
and damps; 

I have read His righteous sentence by the dim and flar- 
ing lamps: 

His day is marching on. 

I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnished rows of steel; 
"As ye deal with my contemners, so wdth you my grace 

shall deal; 
Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with 

his heel : 

Since God is marching on." 

He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call 

retreat ; 
He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment 

seat; 
Oh, be swift, mv soul, to answer Him! be jubilant, my 

feet! 

Our God is marching on! 

In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, 
With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me; 
As He died to make men holv, let us die to make men 
free. 

While God is marching on. 

Julia Ward Howe. 

By permission of Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co. 



60 SIXTH YEAR 



CAPTAIN! ]MY CAPTAIN! 

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, 

The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought 

is won. 
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting. 
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and 

daring; 

But O heart! heart! heart! 
Oh, the bleeding drops of red, 
Where on the deck my Captain lies, 
Fallen cold and dead. 

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; 
Rise up ! — for you the flag is flung — for you the bugle 

trills. 
For you bouquets and ribboned wTcaths — for you the 

shores a-crowding, 
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager facee 

turning; 

Here, Captain ! dear father ! 
This arm beneath your head ! 
It is some dream that on the deck 
You've fallen cold and dead. 

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, 
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor 

will, 
The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed 

and done, 
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object 

won; 



HISTORY SELECTIONS FOR COLLATERAL READING 61 

Exult, O shores! and ring, O bells! 
But I, with mournful tread, 
Walk the deck my Captain lies, 
Fallen cold and dead. 

Walt Whitman. 

By permission of David McKay, publisher. 



BARBARA FRIETCHIE 

Up from the meadows rich with corn, 
Clear in the cool September morn, 

The clustered spires of Frederick stand 
Green-walled by the hills of Maryland. 

Round about them orchards sweep, 
Apple and peach tree fruited deep, 

Fair as a garden of the Lord 

To the eyes of the famished rebel horde. 

On that pleasant morn of the early fall 
When Lee marched over the mountain-wall. 

Over the mountains winding down. 
Horse and foot, into Frederick town. 

Forty flags with their silver stars, 
Forty flags with their crimson bars, 

Flapped in the morning wind : the sun 
Of noon looked down, and saw not one. 

Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then. 
Bowed with her fourscore years and ten; 



62 SIXTH YEAR 

Bravest of all in Frederick town, 

She took up the flag the men hauled down; 

In her attic window the staff she set, 
To show that one heart was loyal yet. 

Up the street came the rebel tread, 
Stonewall Jackson riding ahead. 

Under his slouched hat left and right 
He glanced : the old flag met his sight. 

"Halt!" — the dust-brown ranks stood fast, 
"Fire!" — out blazed the rifle-blast. 

It shivered the window, pane and sash; 
It rent the banner with seam and gash. 

Quick, as it fell, from the broken staff 
Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf. 

She leaned far out on the Avindow-sill, 
And shook it forth with a royal will. 

" Shoot, if you must, this old gray head. 
But spare your country's flag," she said. 

A shade of sadness, a blush of shame, 
Over the face of the leader came; 

The nobler nature within him stirred 
To life at that woman's deed and word: 

" Who touches a hair of yon gray head 
Dies like a dog! March on!" he said. 



HISTORY SELECTIONS FOR COLLATERAL READING 63 

All day long through Frederick street 
Sounded the tread of marching feet: 

All day long that free flag tost 
Over the heads of the rebel host. 

Ever its torn folds rose and fell 

On the loyal winds that loved it well; 

And through the hill-gaps sunset light 
Shone over it with a warm good-night. 

Barbara Frietchie's work is o'er, 

And the rebel rides on his raids no more. 

Honor to her! and let a tear 

Fall, for her sake, on Stonewall's bier. 

Over Barbara Frietchie's grave, 
Flag of Freedom and Union, wave 

Peace and order and beauty draw 
Round thy symbol of light and law; 

And ever the stars above look down 
On thy stars below in Frederick town ! 

John Greenleaf Whittier. 



LINCOLN, THE MAN OF THE PEOPLE 

When the Norn-Mother saw the Whirlwind Hour, 
Greatening and darkening as it hurried on. 
She left the Heaven of Heroes and came down 
To make a man to meet the mortal need. 



64 SIXTH YEAR 

She took the tried clav of the common road — 
Clav warm vet with the ancient heat of Earth, 
Dashed through it all a strain of prophecy; 
Tempered the heap with thrill of human tears; 
Then mixed a laughter with the serious stuff. 
Into the shape she breathed a flame to light 
That tender, tragic, ever-changing face. 
Here was a man to hold against the world, 
A man to match the mountains and the sea. 

The color of the ground was in him, the red earth, 

The smack and tang of elemental things : 

The rectitude and patience of the cliff; 

The good-wall of the rain that loves all leaves; 

The friendly welcome of the wayside well ; 

The courage of the bird that dares the sea; 

The gladness of the wind that shakes the corn; 

The mercy of the snow that hides all scars; 

The secrecy of streams that make their vv^ay 

Beneath the mountain to the rifted rock; 

The undelaying justice of the light 

That gives as freely to the shrinking flower 

As to the great oak flaring to the wind — 

To the grave's low hill as to the Matterhorn 

That shoulders out the skv. 

Sprung from the West, 
The strength of virgin forests braced his mind. 
The hush of spacious prairies stilled his soul. 
Up from log cabin to the Capitol, 
One fire was on his spirit, one resolve — 
To send the keen ax to the root of wrong. 
Clearing a free way for the feet of God. 
And evermore he burned to do his deed 
With the fine stroke and gesture of a king: 



HISTORY SELECTIONS FOR COLLATERAL READING 65 

« 

He built the rail-pile as he built the State, 
Pouring his splendid strength through every blow, 
The conscience of him testing every stroke. 
To make his deed the measure of a man. 

So came the Captain with the thinking heart; 
And when the judgment thunders split the house, 
Wrenching the rafters from their ancient rest. 
He held the ridgepole up and spiked agahi 
The rafters of the Home. He held his place — 
Held the long purpose like a growing tree — 
Held on through blame and faltered not at praise. 
And when he fell in whirlwind, he went down 
As when a lordly cedar green with boughs 
Goes down with a great shout upon the hills. 
And leaves a lonesome place against the sky. 

Edw^in Markham. 

Copyright, 1909, by Edwin Markham. 



THE BLUE AND THE GRAY 

By the flow of the inland river, 

Whence the fleets of iron have fled, 
\M:iere the blades of the grave-grass quiver, 

Asleep are the ranks of the dead; 
Under the sod and the dew, 

Waiting the judgment day; — 
Under the one, the Blue; 

Under the other, the Gray. 

These in the robings of glory. 

Those in the gloom of defeat. 
All with the battle-blood gory, 

In the dusk of eternity meet; — 



66 SIXTH YEAR 

Under the sod and the dew, 
Waiting the Judgment day; — 

Under the laurel, the Blue; 
Under the willow, the Gray. 

From the silence of sorrowful hours 

The desolate mourners go, 
Lovingly laden with flowers 

Alike for the friend and the foe; — = 
Under the sod and the dew. 

Waiting the judgment day; — 
Under the roses, the Blue; 

Under the lilies, the Gray. 

So with an equal splendor 

The morning sun-rays fall. 
With a touch, impartially tender. 

On the blossoms blooming for all; -= 
Under the sod and the dew. 

Waiting the judgment day; — 
'Broidered with gold, the Blue; 

Mellowed with gold, the Gray. 

So, when the summer calleth, 

On forest and field of grain 
With an equal murmur falleth 

The cooling drip of the rain; — 
Under the sod and the dew. 

Waiting the judgment day; — 
Wet with the rain, the Blue; 

Wet with the rain, the Grav. 

Sadly, but not with upbraiding. 
The generous deed was done; 

In the storm of the years that are fading, 
No braver battle was won ; — 



HISTORY SELECTIONS FOR COLLATERAL READING 07 

Under the sod and the dew, 

Waiting the judgment day; — 
Under the blossoms, the Bhie; 

Under the garlands, the Gray. 

No more shall the war-cry sever, 

Or the winding rivers be red; 
They banish our anger forever 

When they laurel the graves of our dead! 
Under the sod and the dew. 

Waiting the judgment day; — 
Love and tears for the Blue; 

Tears and love for the Gray. 

Francis Miles FincHo 

THE AMERICAN FLAG 

When Freedom from her mountain height 
Unfurled her standard to the air, 
She tore the azure robe of night. 

And set the stars of glory there: 
She mingled with its gorgeous dyes 
The milky baldric of the skies. 
And striped its pure celestial white 
With streakings of the morning light; 
Then, from his mansion in the sun, 
She called her eagle-bearer down, 
And gave into his mighty hand 
The symbol of her chosen land. 

Majestic monarch of the cloud! 

Who rear'st aloft thy regal form, 
To hear the tempest-trumpings loud 

And see the lightning lances driven. 
When strive the warriors of the storm. 

And rolls the thunder-drum of heaven. 



68 SIXTH YEAR 

Child of the sun! to thee 'tis given 
To guard the banner of the free, 
To hover in the sulphur-smoke, 
To ward away the battle-stroke. 
And bid its blendings shine afar. 
Like rainbows on the cloud of war, 
The harbingers of victory!' 

Flag of the brave! thy folds shall fly. 
The sign of hope and triumph high. 
When speaks the signal trumpet tone, 
And the long line comes gleaming on. 
Ere yet the hfe-blood, warm and wet, 
Has dimmed the glistening bayonet. 
Each soldier's eye shall brightly turn 
To where thy sky-born glories burn; 
And, as his springing steps advance. 
Catch war and vengeance from the glance: 
And w^hen the cannon-mouthings loud 
Heave in wild wreaths the battle-shroud, 
And gory sabres rise and fall 
Like shoots of flame on midnight's pall. 
Then shall thy meteor glances glow. 

And cowering foes shall fall beneath 
Each gallant arm that strikes below 

That lovely messenger of death. 

Flag of the seas! on ocean wave 
Thy stars shall glitter o'er the brave. 
When Death, careering on the gale, 
Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail. 
And frighted waves rush wildly back. 
Before the broadside's reeling rack. 
Each dying wanderer of the sea 
Shall look at once to heaven and thee. 



HISTORY SELECTIONS FOR COLLATERAL READING 69 

And smile to see thy splendors fly, 
In triumph o'er his closing eye. 

Flag of the free heart's hope and home! 

By angel hands to valor given; 
Thy stars have lit the welkin dome, 

And all thv hues were born in heaven. 
Forever float that standard sheet! 

Where breathes the foe but falls before us, 
With Freedom's soil beneath our feet, 

And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us? 

J. R. Drake. 

The following additional poems for Collateral Reading in con- 
nection with Sixth Year History are included among the Selections 
for Memorizing. 
Fifth Year 

"Old Ironsides," Holmes, p. 7. 

" Warren's Address to the American Soldiers," Pierpont, p. 12. 
Sixth Year 

"Sheridan's Ride," Read, p. 38. 

"The Concord Hymn," Emerson, p. 35. 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 

Thomas Bailey Aldrich, an American journalist, 
poet and novelist, was born at Portsmouth, N. H., in 
1836, and died at Boston in 1907. He became connected 
with the Atlaiitic Monthly and in 1883 was made its 
editor. 

Among his books of poems are "Cloth of Gold," 
"Flower and Thorn," "Friar Jerome's Beautiful Book." 
Among his best known prose works are "The Story of a 
Bad Bov" and "Prudence Palfrev." He is also a writer 
of short stories, the best of which is "Marjorie Daw." 
His style is charming, graceful and genuinely witty. 

Henry Holcomb Bennett, a magazine writer, wa? 
born in Chillicothe, Ohio, December 5, 1863. He was 
educated in the public schools of Chillicothe and at 
Kenyon College, Ohio. Mr. Bennett is a writer chiefly 
of army stories and ornithological articles, with his own 
illustrations. He is also a water colorist in landscape, 
birds and animals. 

Bjornstjerne Bjornson, a Norwegian journalist, 
poet and novelist, was born at Koikne Osterdalen, Nor- 
way, in 1832 and died in 1911. While a student at the 
University of Christiania he began writing for periodicals. 

He became editor of a newspaper and later of an illus- 
trated journal. During the years following this he was 
a voluminous writer of tales, poems and dramas. Among 
his more recent works are "A Happy Boy," "Flags are 
Flying," and "In God's Way." 

70 



SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 71 

Robert Browning, an English poet, was born at 
Camberwell, a suburb of London, in 1812; died at Venice, 
Italy, in 1889. 

He was educated at the London Liiiversity, and soon 
after he produced "Paracelsus," his first notable work. 
Li 1846 he married Elizabeth Barrett and took up his 
residence in Italy. The titles of some of his principal 
volumes of poems are "Men and Women," "The Soul's 
Errand," "The Ring and the Book. " Much of Brown- 
ing's poetry is not easily read, for his style is obscure 
and he deals with psychological problems. He is, how- 
ever, a great dramatic poet; "Pippa Passes" is the best 
example of this side of his art. He was also a vigorous 
writer of Ivrics, of which the best known are "Herve 
Riel" and'^"The Lost Leader." "The Pied Piper of 
Hamelin" is already a classic for children. 

William Cullen Bryant was born among the hills 
of western Massachusetts in 1794. The precocity of his 
genius for poetry is the marvel of American literary 
annals. 

When very young he began to write verses, and while 
a boy wished to be a poet. He wrote translations from 
some of the Latin poets at ten years of age. Before he 
was eighteen he composed "Thanatopsis," — "not only 
the finest poem which had been produced on this con- 
tinent but one of the most remarkable poems ever 
produced at so early an age. " 

Bryant was educated at Williams College and was ad- 
mitted to the bar in 1815, but he soon gave up the law 
and devoted himself to literature. In 1821 he delivered 
the annual poem at Harvard. This fine poem was en- 
titled "The Ages," and not long afterward he published 
it, together with "Thanatopsis," "To a Waterfowl" and 
a few others. Through the influence of friends which 



72 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 

this little volume had won for him, he went to New York 
and was soon appointed editor of the Evening Post, a 
position he held for more than fifty years. 

Bryant was a poet of nature; he loved and wrote of 
the forest, the birds and the streams. All his work is 
of high order. He was a perfect master of English and 
his verse is dignified and simple. He died in New York 
at the age of eighty-four, widely known and honored. 

Thomas Carlyle, one of the foremost of British essay- 
ists and historians, was born at Ecclefechan, Scotland, in 
1795, and died in London in 1881. Despite his poverty 
he secured an education, and after teaching a few years 
devoted himself to literature. He made translations of 
German authors and wrote a splendid series of critical 
and biographical essays. His most important works 
are "Sartor Resartus," his histor}^ of the French Revo- 
lution and a life of Frederick the Great. His literary 
style is forceful but his books appeal chiefly to scholars. 

Joseph Rodman Drake was born in New York in 
1795 and died there in 1820. He was educated at Co- 
lumbia College, and studied medicine, but soon turned 
to literature as his life work. He was closely associated 
with his distinguished friend, Fitz-Greene Halleck, 
socially and in literary pursuits. The last four lines of 
"The American Flag" are from Halleck's pen. 

Ralph Waldo Emerson, an American philosopher 
and poet, was born in Boston, May 25, 1803, and died at 
Concord, Mass., in 1882. He was descended from a 
long line of ministers and was destined by his father to 
follow the same profession. Emerson entered Harvard 
College at thirteen and after graduation taught for several 
years. In 1827 he became pastor of a Unitarian church 



SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 73 

in Boston where he preached for four years. He then 
resigned his charge and devoted the rest of his hfe to 
study and hterarv work. With Hawthorne, Thoreau 
and others he belonged to the so-called " Concord School " 
of writers which has contributed largely to the literature 
of New England. While Emerson wrote poetry of a 
high order he is best known as an essayist and orator. 

Francis Miles Finch, a distinguished lawyer and 
poet, was born at Ithaca, N. Y., in 1827 and died in 1907. 
He was a graduate from Yale University and entered the 
legal profession, becoming a judge of the Supreme 
Court of the State of New York. His best known poem 
entitled "The Blue and the Gray" is a beautiful tribute 
to the soldiers who fell in the Civil War. 

Felicia Browne Hemans was born in Liverpool, 
England, in 1793 and died in Dublin, Ireland, in 1835. 
She was the wife of Captain Hemans of the British Army. 
At the time of her death she was probably the most 
popular woman poet of the day. Many of her songs, 
including ''The Landing of the Pilgrims," have been set 
to music and are still well known. 

Patrick Henry, an American orator and patriot, was 
born at Studley, Va., in 1736 and died at Red Hill, Va., 
in 1799. He was a lawyer by profession and was twice 
elected governor of Virginia. He was a leader of the 
political agitation in the colonies preceding the American 
Revolution and opposed with all the power of his elo- 
quence the unjust measures passed by Parliament 
which affected the Colonies. 

Oliver Wendell Holmes, one of the most original 
as well as one of the wittiest of American authors, was 



74 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 

born in Cambridge, Mass., August 29, 1809, and died 
in 1894. While at Harvard College, where he received 
his education, he began to write both prose and poetry, 
contributing largely to the college paper. After he had 
finished his college course he began the study of law but 
soon turned from this to medicine, going to Europe for 
study and receiving his degree in 1836. He then became 
professor of anatomy in Harvard Medical College, re- 
maining in this position for many years. His first vol- 
ume of poems was published in 1836 and contained "The 
Chambered Nautilus," ''Old Ironsides" and the "Won- 
derful One-Hoss Shav." These three selections alone 
serve to give a clear conception of the variety of his style. 
Many of his poems are full of humor and some of them 
present a rare combination of humor and pathos. In 
1857 he contributed to the Atlantic Monthly a series of 
essavs entitled "The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table. " 
This was followed by other volumes of essays of a 
similar nature and commonlv known as the " Breakfast 
Table Series." For genuine humor, wit and literary 
finish these are unequalled in English literature. After 
their publication his highest fame was as a writer of prose. 
He wrote novels, of which the best known is "Elsie 
Vernier," and also ^vTote and lectured on subjects con- 
nected with the profession of medicine. Dr. Holmes 
was one of the renowned group of New England writers 
which included Emerson, Longfellow, Whittier, Lowell, 
Hawthorne and Thoreau. 

Julia Ward Howe, an American poet and philan- 
thropist, was born in New York City in 1819 and died 
in 1910. She was an untiring worker with both tongue 
and pen, taking a prominent part in the so-called 
"woman's rights" movement. In 1861 she wrote the 
"Battle Hymn of the Republic," while visiting the 



SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZIXG 75 

camp near Washington. Sung to the tune of "John 
Brown" it quickly became popular and remained so 
throughout the Civil War. 

Helen Hunt Jackson, better known as Helen Hunt, 
an American novelist and poet, was born at Amherst, 
Mass., in 1831 and died in San Francisco in 1885. Her 
verse is characterized by sympathy with all human joy 
and sorrow and deep feeling for the beauty and truth 
embodied in nature. Her best prose works are "A 
Century of Dishonor" and a fine romance of early Span- 
ish and Indian life in California entitled "Ramona," 
in which the rights of the Indians, towards whom she 
was always compassionate, are earnestly championed. 
She sometimes ^wrote under the pseudonym of ''Saxe 
Holme." 

Francis Scott Key, the author of the popular na- 
tional song "The Star-Spangled Banner," was born in 
Maryland in 1779 and died in 1843. He wrote a number 
of other poems, but it is chiefly upon this one that his 
fame rests. 

Abraham Lincoln, the l(3th President of the United 
States, was born in Hardin County, Ivy., Feb. 12, 
1809, and died at Washington, April 15, 1865. His 
boyhood was passed in poverty and amid hardship and 
he had no advantages for an education. In 1832 the 
Black Hawk War broke out, and Lincoln, then a young 
man of twenty-three, led a company of volunteers 
against the Indians. Two years later he was elected to 
the Illinois legislature. With no one to direct him in 
his study he obtained a meagre education through a 
careful perusal of the few books that came into his pos- 
session. It is said that after he had become prominent 
in public life and had served a term in Congress, feeling 



76 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 

the need of a better education, he took up the study of 
geometry, history, Hterature and German. He kept up 
this study during his leisure hours outside of his pro- 
fession, which was the law, until he became absorbed in 
the anti-slavery struggle. He was unsuccessful as can- 
didate for United States Senator from Illinois, but, in 
1860, was elected President and was inaugurated ]\Iarch 
4, 1861. When he entered upon the duties of this office 
he was comparatively unknown to a large section of the 
countrv and his abilitv was mistrusted bv manv. It 
was a period of \^iolent unrest, and the great Civil War 
which followed tested and tried him as no other Presi- 
dent of the United States has been tested and tried. It 
was largely due to his patience, sagacity and judgment 
that the Union was finallv saved. 

Lincoln has not generally been classed as a man of 
letters, but his "Inaugural Addresses," "The Emanci- 
pation Proclamation," and the "Gettysburg Speech" 
are among the classics of American literature. 

Henry W.adsworth Longfellow, an American poet, 
was born at Portland, Maine, in 1807; died at Cam- 
bridge, ]\Iass., in 1882. He was graduated from Bow- 
doin College in 1825 in the same class with Nathaniel 
Hawthorne, and the following year received the appoint- 
ment of Professor of Modern Languages in his Alma 
Mater. He studied three years in Europe before taking 
up his duties. In 1835, having received an appointment 
in Harvard College, he moved to Cambridge and made 
his home there during the remainder of his life. He is, 
perhaps, the most popular of the American poets, for the 
truth and simplicity of his sentiments and the graceful 
manner in which they are expressed, appeal to humanity. 
In his poems, especially in "Evangeline," "Hiawatha" 
and "The Courtship of Miles Standish," he has done 



SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 77 

much to immortalize in poetry incidents in American 
history. Among his well-known shorter poems are 
"The Children's Hour," "The Wreck of the Hesperus," 
"The Village Blacksmith" and "Excelsior." 

J.oiES Russell Lowell was one of America's most 
distinguished men of letters — poet, essayist, critic. 
He was born at Cambridge, Mass., Feb. 22, 1S19, and 
spent his life there, with the exception of years spent in 
travel and study in Europe and the period of his residence 
abroad as American minister to Spain and England. His 
first literary work was poetry. Some of his finest poems 
are "The Harvard Commemoration Ode," and that 
written under the Old Elm at Cambridge. His series 
of dialect poems, the "Biglow Papers," rank among 
the best of political satires. In direct contrast to these 
stands his "Vision of Sir Launfal," which is unsur- 
passed in exquisite workmanship and in lofty sentiment. 
Lowell's work shows power of thought and emotion. 
His themes are love, patriotism, religion, hope and 
truth. 

Li his prose '^Titings Lowell shows keen wit and humor, 
as well as power and strength, and as a critic he holds a 
foremost place. He was for many years connected with 
Harvard Lniversitv; at the same time he edited the 
Atlantic Monthly and afterwards the North American 
Review. Few men have been more thoroughly and 
proudly American than he, and through his diplomatic 
life abroad as well as through his wTitings he did much to 
make American letters and culture respected. 

He died August 1, 1891, after a life of more than three- 
score and ten years, recognized ever^-^s'here as a man of 
broad culture and of noble character. 

Edwin ]MarivH-\:m, poet, writer and lecturer, was 
born at Oregon City, Ore., April 23, 1852. As a boy he 



7S BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 

worked at herding cattle and sheep. His eiincation was 
received at the San Jose Normal School and the Santa 
Rosa College. He was for a number of years a superin- 
tendent of schools in California, but has recenth- been 
living in the East, where he is a valueii contributor to the 
leading magazines. His best known poem, "The Man 
with the Hoe," is foundeii upon ^Millet's great painting 
*'The An£:elus." 

CixcixxATUS Heixe ]\Iiller, who ^^Tote under the 
name of Joaquin Miller, was born in Wabash District, 
Ind., in 1S41. He spent his early years in the mining 
camps of California and liveii for some years among the 
Indians of Oregon. His first volume of poems was 
publisheii in England and attracted much attention. 
He afterwards returned to this coimtrv and lived in 
Washinjjton and California. Some of his books of verse 
are "Songs of the Sierras," "Songs of the Sunlands," 
Sonsrs of Italv " and " Collected Poems." 



a o 



JoHX Howard Payxe, an American dramatist and 
actor, was born in Xew York in 1792; died at Timis, 
Africa, in 1S52. He liveii in Europe for nineteen years, 
devoting his time to the stage and to writing dramas. 
The song. "Home, Sweet Home," for which he is chiefly 
famous, occurs in the opera "Clari, the ^Nlaid of ^Nlilan." 
This song made the opera successful and its publishers 
rich, but Payne received no pecuniary benefit. In ISol 
he was appointeii Uniteii States Consul at Tunis, where 
he died. Thirtv vears after his death his remains were 
brought to Washington for reinterment. 

XoRA Perry, an American poet, was born at Dudley, 
^lass., in 1S41; died in the same place in 1890. She 
began wTiting at the early age of eighteen and was a 



SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 79 

frequent contributor to St. Nicholas and other maga- 
zines. 

John Pierpont, an American clergyman and poet, 
was born at Litchfield, Conn., in 1785; died at Medford, 
Mass., in 1866. He was graduated from Yale in 1804. 
In 1816 he published "The Airs of Palestine." Most 
of his poems were written for special occasions. 

Thomas Buchanan Read was born in 1822 at Chester, 
Pa., and died in 1872. He passed much of his time abroad 
and became a landscape painter of some merit. He 
wrote, besides many larger works, some really notable 
short poems. His " Sheridan's Ride" is among the most 
popular of our short poems and his lyrics are of a high 
order. 

William Sil\kespeare, the greatest of English drama- 
tists, was born at Stratford-on-Avon in 1564; died there 
in 1()16. When twenty-three yeatTS of age Shakespeare 
left Stratford for London and soon became connected 
with the ^Metropolitan theatre as playwright. Shake- 
speare's dramas number thirty-seven; only about a 
dozen were printed during his lifetime. The entire 
plays were published in 1623, seven years after his death. 

Although his dramas overshadow his other writings, 
Shakespeare holds a high place among the great 
English poets as a writer of sonnets and other poems. 
All of his work is of high order, but "The Merchant of 
Venice," "Julius Csesar," "As you Like It" and "A 
Midsummer Night's Dream" are perhaps best fitted for 
young people's reading. 

Frank Dempster Sherman, an American poet, was 
born at Peekskill, N. Y., in 1860. He was educated at 



80 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 

Columbia College and is now connected with that insti- 
tution. His verses are pleasing and graceful. 

Susan Hartley Swett was born in Brewer, INIaine, 
in 1867. She has published many poems in "Harper's," 
"St. Nicholas," "The Cosmopolitan" and "The Youth's 
Companion," and is the author of "Field Clover and 
Beach Grass," a collection of stories published in 1898. 

Alfred, Lord Tennyson, a celebrated English poet, 
was born at Somersby, Lincolnshire, in 1809; died at 
Aldworth House, near Haslemere, Surrey, in 1892. He 
was educated at Trinity College, Cambridge. Li 1850 
he was appointed Poet Laureate of England through 
Prince Albert's admiration for "Li INIemoriam." He 
was buried near Chaucer, in the Poets' Corner of West- 
minster Abbey. 

Some of his principal poems are "Maud," "Idvlls of 
the King," "Enoch Arden," "The Princess," "I.ocks- 
ley Hall." Many of his poems are masterpieces of 
poetic genius and all of them are finished and artistic. 
This is especiall}^ true of his lyrics, such as the "Bugle 
Song" and the "Cradle Song." 

WiLLL\M Makepeace Thackeray, a celebrated Eng- 
lish novelist, was born in Calcutta, India, July 18, 1811, 
and died in London, Dec. 24, 1863. He was sent to 
England to be educated and spent some years in Trinity 
College, Cambridge, but never graduated. He studied 
art in Rome and Paris and read law for a time. After 
the loss of his modest fortune he began to dev^ote him- 
self to literature. He gained a reputation as a satirist, 
essayist and writer of verse, and in all of his writings he 
made clever hits at the fashionable follies and foibles of 
the time. For many years he wrote for Punch and in 



SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 81 

1847 published "Vanity Fair," the first of his five great 
novels. This novel immediately brought him fame and 
placed him in the first rank as a novelist. He regarded 
''Henry Esmond" as his best work, but many people 
prefer "The Xewcomes. " "The Virginians" deals 
with colonial life in America and gives an excellent 
picture of Washington and Wolfe. 

Daniel Webster, the greatest of American orators, 
was born at Salisbury, X. H., Jan. 18, 1782, and died at 
]Marshfield, ]\Iass., Oct. 24, 1852. He was educated 
at Dartmouth College, was principal of a X"ew England 
academv and studied law. After his admission to the 
bar he moved to Boston where he soon became a leader 
in his profession. He was naturally attracted to a 
public life and for many years represented the State of 
Massachusetts in the United States Senate. He was a 
man of striking personal appearance and a profound 
student of constitutional government. His orations in 
defense of the Union are among the finest in history. 

Walt Whit:\ian, an American poet, was born at West 
Hills, Long Island, May 31, 1819; died at Camden, 
N. J., March 2(3, 1892. He was educated in the public 
schools of Brooklyn and Xew York. " Leaves of Grass, " 
published in 1855, was his first noteworthy work. He 
wrote poems for periodicals, some of which have been 
collected into volumes. iVmong these are " Drum Taps, " 
"Specimen Days and Collect" and "Good-bye, My 
Fancy." His most beautiful poem is "O Captain! My 
Captain I" written after the assassination of Lincoln. 

John Greenleaf Whittier was born in the town of 
Haverhill, Mass., on Dec. 17, 1807, and died in 1892. 
He is known as the "Quaker poet" and also as the "poet 



82 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 

of freedom. " Poverty stood in the way of an education, 
but by wide and well-chosen reading he complemented 
his rather meagre schooling. That he was never robust 
in health was probably due to the hard work and exposure 
of his boyhood on his father's farm, but his spirit was 
strong. 

He allied himself with the cause of freedom and wrote 
many anti-slavery poems. "Voices of Freedom" ap- 
peared in 1849. Another collection, "House Ballads," 
includes "Maud Muller," "Barefoot Boy," "Angels of 
Buena Vista," "Skipper Ireson's Ride." "Barbara 
Frietchie" appeared in the collection entitled "In War 
Time" and is one of his best known poems. 

Whittier's greatest fame is as a writer of stories in 
verse, and as a writer of lyrics, some of which are among 
the most beautiful in our language. "Snow Bound" is 
a vivid portrayal of New England life. 

Charles Wolfe, an English clergyman and poet, was 
born at Dublin, Ireland, in 1791, and died at Cork, Ire- 
land, in 1823. His best known poem is "The Burial of 
Sir John Moore." 



INDEX BY TITLES 



PAGE 

American Flag, The . . . Drake 67 

Barbara Frietchie .... Whittier 61 

Battle Hymn of the Re- 
public Howe 58 

Before the Rain Aldrich .......... 33 

Blue and the Gray, The . Finch 65 

Blue Jay, The Swett . . 14 

Brook, The Tennyson 15 

Builders, The Longfellow 10 

Burial of Sir John Moore, 

The Wolfe 44 

Columbus Miller 25 

Coming of Spring, The . . Perry 37 

Concord Hymn Emerson 35 

Corn-Song, The Whittier 29 

First Snow-Fall, The . . Lowell 36 

Flag Goes By, The . . . Bennett 33 

Home, Sweet Home .... PajTie 11 

July Swett 43 

Landing of the Pilgrims . Hemans 28 

Lincoln, The Man of the 

People Markham 63 

Lullaby for Titania . . . Shakespeare 13 

]\L\Y Sherman ^42 

O Captain! IMy Captain! . Whitman 60 

October's Bright Blue 

Weather Jackson . . ; 8 

Old Ironsides Holmes . 7 

83 



84 INDEX BY TITLES 

PAGE 

Paul Revere's Ride . . . Longfellow . 50 

Pocahontas Thackeray 26 

Puck and the Fairy . . . Shakespeare . 41 

Quaker of the Olden Time, 

The Whittier 31 

Quality of Mercy, The . Shakespeare 41 

Reply to Hayne . . . . . Webster 57 

Robert of Lincoln .... Bryant 3 

Second Inaugural Address Lmcoln 58 

Sheridan's Ride Read .... 38 

Ship of State, The .... Longfellow . 9 

Skeleton in Armor, The . Longfellow ........ 20 

Song of Marion's Men . . Bryant 54 

Star-Sp ANGLED Banner, The Key 56 

To-day Carlisle .......... 6 

Tree, The Bjornson ... ..... 5 

War Inevitable, The . . . Henry 47 

Warren's Address to the 

American Soldiers . . . Pierpont 12 

Year's at the Spring, The Browning 34 



INDEX BY AUTHORS 

PAGE 

Aldrich, Thomas Bailey . Before the Rain 33 

Bennett, Henry Holcomb Flag Goes By, The .... 33 

Bjornson, Bjornstjerne . Tree, The 5 

Browning, Robert .... Year's at the Spring, The . 34 

Bryant, William Cullen . Robert of Lincoln 3 

Song of Marion's Men ... 54 

Carlyle, Thomas To-day 6 

Drake, Joseph Rodman . . American Flag, The .... 67 

Emerson, Ralph Waldo . Concord Hymn, The .... 35 

Finch, Francis Miles . . Blue and the Gray, The ... 65 

Hemans, Felicia Browne . Landing of the Pilgrims . . 28 

Henry, Patrick War Inevitable, The .... 47 

Holmes, Oliver Wendell . Old Ironsides 7 

Howe, Julia Ward .... Battle Hymn of the Republic 58 

Jackson, Helen Hunt . . October's Bright Blue 

Weather 8 

Key, Francis Scott . . . Star-Spangled Banner, The . 56 

Lincoln, Abraham .... Second Inaugural Address . 58 

Longfellow, Henry Wads- 
worth Builders, The 10 

Paul Revere's Ride .... 50 

Ship of State, The 9 

Skeleton in Armor, The . . 20 

Lowell, James Russell . . First Snow-Fall, The .... 36 

85 



86 INDEX BY AUTHORS 

PAGE 

Markham, Edwin Lincoln, The Man of the 

People 63 

Miller, Cincinnatus Heine, 

"Joaquin" Columbus 25 

Payne, John Howard . . . Home, Sweet Home .... 11 

Perry, Nora Coming of Spring, The ... 37 

PiERPONT, John Warren's Address to the 

American Soldiers .... 12 

Read, Thomas Buchanan . Sheridan's Ride 38 

Shakespeare, William . , Lullaby for Titania .... 13 

Puck and the Fairy .... 41 

Quality of Mercy, The ... 41 

Sherman, Frank Dempster May 42 

SwETT, Susan H.^rtley . . Blue Jay, The , 14 

July 43 

Tennyson, Alfred, Lord . Brook, The 15 

Thackeray. Williajvi Make- 
peace Pocahontas 26 

Webster, Daniel Reply to Hayne 57 

Whitman, Walt O Captain! My Captain! . . 60 

Whittier, John Greenleaf Barbara Frietchie 61 

Corn-Song, The 29 

Quaker of the Olden Time, The 31 

Wolfe, Charles Burial of Sir John Moore . . 43 



CONTENTS 

SEVENTH YEAR p^gb 

Selections for Memorizing 3 

For Appreciative Reading 21 

Memory Gems 48 

History Poems for Collateral Reading ... 51 

EIGHTH YEAR 

Selections for Memorizing 61 

For Appreciative Reading 74 

Memory Gems 129 

History Poems for Collateral Reading .... 132 

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 133 

INDEX BY TITLES 147 

INDEX BY AUTHORS 149 



IX 



i 



BOOK THREE 



i 



SEVENTH YEAR 



SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 

A SOXG OF LO^^E 

Say, what is the spell, when her fledglings are cheeping, 

That lures the bird home to her nest? 
Or wakes the tired mother, whose infant is weeping. 

To cuddle and croon it to rest? 
What the magic that charms the glad babe in her arms, 

Till it cooes with the voice of the dove? 
'Tis a secret, and so let us whisper it low — 
And the name of the secret is Love. 
For I think it is Love, 
For I feel it is Love, 
For I'm sure it is nothing but Love! 

Say, whence is the voice that when anger is burning. 

Bids the whirl of the tempest to cease? 
That stirs the vexed soul with an aching — a yearning 

For the brotherly hand-grip of peace? 
WTience the music that fills all our being — that thrills 

Around us, beneath, and above? 
'Tis a secret : none knows how it comes, or it goes — 
But the name of the secret is Love. 
For I think it is Love, 
For I feel it is Love, 
For I'm sure it is nothing but Love! 

3 



4 SEVENTH YEAR 

Say, whose is the skill that paints valley and hill, 

Like a picture so fair to the sight? 
That flecks the green meadow with sunshine and shadow, 

Till the little lambs leap with delight? 
'Tis a secret untold to hearts cruel and cold, 

Though 'tis sung by the angels above, 
In notes that ring clear for the ears that can hear — 
And the name of the secret is Love. 
For I think it is Love, 
For I feel it is Love, 
For I'm sure it is nothing but Love! 

Lewis Carroll. 

By permission of the Macmillan Company, 



THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS 

This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign. 

Sails the unshadowed main, — 

The venturous bark that flings 
On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings 
In gulfs enchanted, where the siren sings. 

And coral reefs lie bare. 
Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair. 

Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl; 

Wrecked is the ship of pearl! 

And every chambered cell. 
Where its dim dreaming life was wont to dwell, 
As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell, 

Before thee lies revealed, — 
Its irised ceiUng rent, its sunless crypt unsealed! 

Year after year beheld the silent toil 
That spread his lustrous coil; 



SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 5 

Still, as the spiral grew, 
He left the past year's dwelling for the new, 
Stole with soft step its shining archway through, 

Built up its idle door, 
Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no 
more. 

Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee, 

Child of the wandering sea. 

Cast from her lap, forlorn! 
From thy dead lips a clearer note is born 
Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn! 

While on mine ear it rings. 
Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that 
sings : — 

Build thee more stately mansions, my soul, 

As the swift seasons roll! 

Leave thy low-vaulted past! 
Let each new temple, nobler than the last. 
Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast. 

Till thou at length art free. 
Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea! 

Oliver Wendell Holmes. 

THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNERS 

Oh, say, can you see, by the dawn's early light. 

What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleam- 
ing — 
Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the clouds 
of the fight, 
O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly stream- 
ing? 

^ Also designated for Collateral Reading in connection with 
Eighth Year History. 



6 SEVENTH YEAR 

And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air, 
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there: 
Oh, say, does that Star-Spangled Banner yet wave 
O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave? 

On that shore dimly seen through the mists of the deep, 
Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, 
What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep. 

As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses? 
Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam, 
In full glorv reflected now shines on the stream: 
^Tis the Star-Spangled Banner! Oh, long may it wave 
O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave. 

And where is that band who so vauntingly swore 

That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion 
A home and a countrv should leave us no more? 

Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' 
pollution. 
No refuge should save the hireling and slave 
From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave: 
And the Star-Spangled Banner in triumph doth wave 
O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave. 

Oh, thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand 

Between their loved homes and war's desolation. 
Blest w^ith victory and peace, may the heaven-rescued 
land 
Praise the power that hath made and preserved us a 
nation. 
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just, 
And this be our motto, "In God is our trust:" 
And the Star-Spangled Banner in triumph shall wave 
O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave. 

Francis Scott Key. 



SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 



SCYTHE SONG 

iVIowERS, weary and brown, and blithe, 

What is the word methinks ye know, 
Endless over-word that the Scvthe 

Sings to the blades of the grass below? 
Scythes that swing in the grass and clover. 

Something, still, they say as they pass; 
What is the word that, over and over. 

Sings the Scythe to the flowers and grass? 

Hush, ah hisJi, the Scythes are saying, 

Hush, and heed not, and fall asleep; 
Hush, they say to the grasses swaying, 

Hush, they sing to the clover deep ! 
Hush — 'tis the lullaby Time is singing — 

Hush, and heed not, for all things j^ass, 
Hush, ah hush! and the Scythes are swinging 

Over the clover, over the grass! 

Andrew Lang. 

Reprinted, by permission of Longmans, Green & Co., from " Grass of 

Parnassus," by Andrew Lang. 



THE ARROW AND THE SONG 

I SHOT an arrow into the air. 
It fell to earth, I knew not where; 
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight 
Could not follow it in its flight. 

I breathed a song into the air. 
It fell to earth, I knew not where; 
For who has sight so keen and strong 
That it can follow the flight of song? 



8 SEVENTH YEAR 

Long, long afterward, in an oak 
I found the arrow, still unbroke; 
And the song, from beginning to end, 
I found again in the heart of a friend. 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 

SPRING 

From "' Kavanagh." 

Ah, how wonderful is the advent of the spring ! — the 
great annual miracle of the blossoming of Aaron's rod, re- 
peated on myriads and myriads of branches ! — the gentle 
progression and growth of herbs, flowers, trees, — gentle, 
and yet irrepressible, — which no force can stay, no vio- 
lence restrain, like love, that wins its way and cannot be 
withstood by any human power. If spring came but 
once a century, instead of once a year, or burst forth 
with the sound of an earthquake, and not in silence^ 
what wonder and expectation would there be in all hearts 
to behold the miraculous change! 

But now the silent succession suggests nothing but 
necessity. To most men, only the cessation of the mir- 
acle would be miraculous, and the perpetual exercise of 
God's power seems less wonderful than its withdrawal 
would be. We are like children who are astonished and 
delighted only by the second-hand of the clock, not by 
the hour-hand. 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 

SUMMER 

From " Kavanagh.^' 

In the fields and woods, meanwhile, there were other 
signs and signals of the summer. The darkening foliage; 



SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 9 

the embrowning grain; the golden dragon-fly haunting 
the blackberry-bushes; the cawing crows, that looked 
down from the mountain on the cornfield, and waited 
day after day for the scarecrow to finish his work and 
depart; and the smoke of far-off burning woods, that 
pervaded the air and hung in purple haze about the sum- 
mits of the mountains, — these were the vaunt-couriers 
and attendants of the hot August. 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 



AUTUMN 

From " Kavanagh.'^ 

The brown autumn came. Out of doors, it brought 
to the fields the prodigality of the golden harvest, — to 
the forest, revelations of light, — and to the sky, the 
sharp air, the morning mist, the red clouds at evening. 
Within doors, the sense of seclusion, the stillness of closed 
and curtained windows, musings by the fireside, books, 
friends' conversation, and the long, meditative evenings. 
To the farmer, it brought surcease of toil, — to the 
scholar that sweet delirium of the brain which changes 
toil to pleasure. It brought the wild duck back to the 
reedy marshes of the south ; it brought the wild song back 
to the fervid brain of the poet. Without, the village 
street was paved with gold; the river ran red with the 
reflection of the leaves. Within, the faces of friends 
brightened the gloomy walls; the returning footsteps of 
the long-absent gladdened the household; and all the 
sweet amenities of social life again resumed their inter- 
rupted reign. 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 



10 SEVENTH YEAR 

WINTER 

From " Kavanagh. 



}} 



The first snow came. How beautiful it was, falling so 
silently, all day long, all night long, on the mountains, 
on the meadows, on the roofs of the living, on the graves 
of the dead! All white save the river, that marked its 
course by a winding black line across the landscape; and 
the leafless trees, that against the leaden sky now re- 
vealed more fully the wonderful beauty and intricacy of 
their branches! 

What silence, too, came w^ith the snow, and what se- 
clusion! Every sound was muffled, every noise changed 
to something soft and musical. No more trampling of 
hoofs, — no more rattling wheels! Only the chiming 
sleighbells, beating as swift and merrily as the hearts of 
children. 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 

THE FINDING OF THE LYRE 

There lay upon the ocean's shore 
What once a tortoise served to cover; 
A year and more, with rush and roar, 
The surf had rolled it over, 
Had played with it, and flung it by, 
As wind and weather might decide it. 
Then tossed it high where sand-drifts dry 
Cheap burial might provide it. 

It rested there to bleach or tan, 

The rains had soaked, the suns had burned it; 

With manv a ban the fisherman 

Had stumbled o'er and spurned it; 



SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 11 

And there the fisher-girl would stay, 
Conjecturing with her brother 
How in their play the poor estray 
Might serve some use or other. 

So there it lay, through wet and dry 

As empty as the last new sonnet. 

Till by and by came ^Mercury, 

And, having mused upon it, 

"Why, here," cried he, "the thing of things 

In shape, material, and dimension! 

Give it but strings, and, lo, it sings, 

A wonderful invention!" 

So said, so done; the chords he strained. 
And, as his fingers o'er them hovered. 
The shell disdained a soul had gained. 
The lyre had been discovered. 
O empty world that round us lies. 
Dead shell, of soul and thought forsaken, 
Brought we but eyes like Mercury's, 
In thee what songs should waken! 

James Russell Lowell. 



COLUMBUS 1 

Behind him lav the grav Azores, 
Behind the Gates of Hercules; 

Before him not the ghost of shores. 
Before him only shoreless seas. 

1 This poem is also designated for Collateral Reading in con- 
nection with Seventh Year History. 

The London Athenceum thus characterized this poem: "In 
point of power, workmanship and feeling, among all the poems 
written by Americans, we are inclined to give first place to the 
' Port of Ships ' (or ' Columbus ') by Joaquin Miller." 



12 SEVENTH YEAR 

The good mate said : " Now must we pray, 
For lo ! the very stars are gone. 

Brave Adm'r'l, speak; what shall I say?" 
"Why say: 'Sail on! sail on! and on!'" 



a 



ii 



"My men grow mutinous day by day; 

My men grow ghastly wan and weak." 
The stout mate thought of home; a spray 

Of salt wave washed his swarthy cheek. 

What shall I say, brave Adm'r'l, say, 

If we sight naught but seas at dawn?" 
Why you shall say, at Vjreak of day: 

'Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!'" 

They sailed and sailed, as winds might blow, 

Until at last the blanched mate said: 
"Why, now not even God would know 

Should I and all my men fall dead. 
These very winds forget their way, 

For God from these dread seas is gone. 
Now speak, brave Adm'r'l; speak and say" — 

He said: "Sail on! sail on! and on!" 

They sailed. They sailed. Then spake the mate: 

" This mad sea shows his teeth to-night. 
He curls his lips, he lies in wait, 

With lifted teeth, as if to bite! 
Brave Adm'r'l, say but one good word: 

What shall we do when hope is gone?" 
The words leapt as a leaping sword: 

"Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!" 

Then, pale and worn, he kept his deck. 

And peered through darkness. Ah, that night 

Of all dark nights ! And then a speck — 
Alight! Alight! Alight! Alight! 



SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 13 

It grew — a starlit flag unfurled ! 

It grew to be Time's burst of dawn. 
He gained a world ! he gave that world 

Its grandest lesson: "On! sail on!" 

Joaquin Miller. 

From " The Complete Poetical Works of Joaquin Miller," by permis- 
sion of the Whitaker & Ray Company. 



THE NAjVIE of OLD GLORY 

" Old Glory! say, who 
By the ships and the crew, 

And the long, blended ranks of the Gray and the Blue — 
Who gave you, old Glory, the name that you bear 
With such pride everywhere, 
As you cast yourself free to the rapturous air, 
And leap out full length, as we're wanting you to? — 
Who gave you that name, with the ring of the same, 
And the honor and fame so becoming to you? 
Your stripes stroked in ripples of white and of red. 
With your stars at their glittering best overhead — 
By day or by night 
Their delightfulest light 

Laughing down from their little square heaven of blue I 
Who gave you the name of Old Glory — say, who — 
Who gave you the name of Old Glory? " 

The old banner lifted and faltering then 
In vague lisps and whispers fell silent again. 

" Old Glory: the story we're wanting to hear 

Is what the plain facts of your christening were, — 

For your name — just to hear it, 

Repeat it, and cheer it's a tang to the spirit 

As salt as a tear; — 



14 SEVENTH YEAR 

And seeing you fly, and the boys marching by, 
There's a shout in the throat and a blur in the eye, 
And an aching to Hve for you always — or die. 
If, dying, we still keep you waving on high. 
And so, by our love 
For you, floating above. 

And the scars of all wars and the sorrows thereof, 
Who gave you the name of Old Glory, and why 
Are w^e thrilled at the name of Old Glory? '' 

Then the old banner leaped like a sail in the blast 
And fluttered an audible answer at last. 

And it spake with a shake of the voice, and it said: 
" By the driven snow-white and the living blood-red 
Of my bars and their heaven of stars overhead — 
By the symbol conjoined of them all, skyward cast, 
As I float from the steeple or flap at the mast. 
Or drop o'er the sod where the long grasses nod, — 
My name is as old as the Glory of God. 
So I came by the name of Old Glory." 

James Whitcomb Riley. 

From " Home-Folks;" copyright, 1900; by special permission of the 
publishers, The Bobbs-Merrill Company. 



A SONG OF CLOVER 

I WONDER what the Clover thinks, — 
Intimate friend of Bob-o '-links. 
Lover of Daisies slim and white, 
Waltzer with Buttercups at night; 
Keeper of Lm for traveling Bees, 
Serving to them wine-dregs and lees, 
Left by the Royal Humming Birds, 
Who sip and pay with fine-spun words; 



SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 15 

Fellow with all the lowliest, 
Peer of the gayest and the best; 
Comrade of winds, beloved of sun. 
Kissed by the Dew-drops, one by one; 
Prophet of Good-Luck mystery 
By sign of four which few may see; 
Symbol of Nature's magic zone. 
One out of three, and three in one; 
Emblem of comfort in the speech 
Which poor men's babies early reach; 
Sweet by the roadsides, sweet by rills, 
Sweet in the meadows, sweet on hills. 
Sweet in its white, sweet in its red, — 
Oh, half its sweetness cannot be said; — 
Sweet in its every living breath, 
Sweetest, perhaps, at last, in death ! 
Oh! who knows what the Clover thinks? 
No one! unless the Bob-o'-links! 

'' S.\XE Holm." 



FAREWELL! A LONG PARE\^^LL TO ALL :\IY 

GREATNESS! 

From ''Henry VIIL" 

Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness! 
This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth 
The tender leaves of hopes; to-morrow blossoms. 
And bears his blushing honors thick upon him; 
The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, 
And, when he thinks, good easy man, full surely 
His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root. 
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur'd, 
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders. 
This many summers in a sea of glory, 



16 SEVENTH YEAR 

But far beyond my depth. My high-blown pride 
At length broke under me, and now has left me, 
Weary and old with service, to the mercy 
Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me. 
Vain pomp and glory of this world I hate ye! 
I feel my heart new open'd. O, how wretched 
Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours I 
There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, 
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin. 
More pangs and fears than wars or women have; 
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, 
Never to hope again. 

William Shakespeare. 



JOG ON, JOG ON 

From ''The Winter's Tale.'' 

Jog on, jog on the foot-path way, 
And merrily hent the stile-a. 
Your merry heart goes all the day. 
Your sad tires in a mile-a. 

Your paltry money-bags of gold — 
What heed have we to stare for. 
When little or nothing soon is told. 
And we have less to care for. 

Then cast away care, let worry cease, 
A fig for melancholy; 
Let's laugh and sing, or, if you please. 
We'll frolic with sweet Dolly. 

William Shakespeare. 



SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 17 



A VISIT FROM THE SEA 

Far from the loud sea beaches 
Where he goes fishing and crying, 

Here in the inland garden 
Why is the sea-gull flying? 

Here are no fish to dive for; 

Here is the corn and lea; 
Here are the green trees rustling. 

Hie away home to sea! 

Fresh is the river water 

And quiet among the rushes; 
This is no home for the sea-gull, 

But for the rooks and thrushes. 

Pity the bird that has wandered ! 

Pity the sailor ashore! 
Hurry him home to the ocean, 

Let him come here no more! 

High on the sea-cliff ledges 

The white gulls are trooping and crying; 
Here among rooks and roses. 

Why is the sea-gull flying? 

Robert Louis Steyenson. 



SIR GALAHAD 

My good blade carves the casques of men. 
My tough lance thrustetb sure, 

My strength is as the strength of ten, 
Because my heart is pure. 



18 SEVENTH YEAR 

The shattering trumpet shrilleth high, 

The hard brands shiver on the steel, 
The sphnter's spear-shafts crack and fly, 

The horse and rider reel: 
They reel, they roll in clanging lists. 

And when the tide of combat stands. 
Perfume and flowers fall in showers, 

That lightly rain from ladies' hands. 

How sweet are looks that ladies bend 

On whom their favors fall ! 
For them I battle till the end. 

To save from shame and thrall: 
But all my heart is drawn above. 

My knees are bow'd in crypt and shrine: 
I never felt the kiss of love, 

Nor maiden's hand in mine. 
More bounteous aspects on me beam, 

Me mightier transports move and thrill; 
So keep I fair thro' faith and prayer 

A virgin heart in work and will. 

When down the stormy crescent goes, 

A light before me swims. 
Between dark stems the forest glows, 

I hear a noise of hymns; 
Then by some secret shrine I ride; 

I hear a voice, but none are there; 
The stalls are void, the doors are wide, 

The tapers burning fair. 
Fair gleams the snowy altar-cloth. 

The silver vessels sparkle clean. 
The shrill bell rings, the censer swings. 

And solemn chants resound between. 



SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 19 

Sometimes on lonely mountain-meres, 

I find a magic bark; 
I leap on board: no helmsman steers: 

I float till all is dark. 
A gentle sound, an awiul light! 

Three angels bear the holy Grail ! 
With folded feet, in stoles of white, 

On sleeping wings they sail. 
Ah, blessed vision! blood of God! 

My spirit beats her mortal bars. 
As down dark tides the glory slides. 

And star-like mingles with the stars. 

When on my goodly charger borne 

Thro' dreaming towns I go, 
The cock crows ere the Christmas morn. 

The streets are dumb with snow. 
The tempest crackles on the leads, 

And, ringing, springs from brand and mail; 
But o'er the dark a glory spreads. 

And gilds the driving hail. 
I leave the plain, I climb the height; 

No branchy thicket shelter yields; 
But blessed forms in whistling storms 

Fly o'er waste fens and windy fields. 

A maiden Knight — to me is given 

Such hope, I know not fear; 
I yearn to breathe the airs of heaven 

That often meet me here. 
I muse on joy that will not cease. 

Pure spaces cloth'd in living beams, 
Pure lilies of eternal peace. 

Whose odors haunt me in my dreams; 



20 SEVENTH YEAR 

And stricken by an angel's hand, 

This mortal armor that I wear, 
This weight and size, this heart and eyes, 

Are touch'd, are turn'd to finest air. 

The clouds are broken in the skv. 

And thro' the mountain-walls 
A rolling organ-harmony 

Swells up, and shakes and falls. 
Then move the trees, the copses nod, 

Wings flutter, voices hover clear: 
" O just and faithful knight of God ! 

Ride on! the prize is near." 
So pass I hostel, hall, and grange; 

By bridge and ford, by park and pale, 
All arm'd I ride, whate'er betide, 

Until I find the holy Grail. 

Alfred, Lord Tennyson. 



FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 
THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN 

The town of Hamelin was infested with rats in the year 1284. 
The people had no peace at home or abroad. Finally there appeared 
a strange .looking man, tall and thin, dressed in a parti-colored 
suit. He said he was a rat-catcher and offered to free the place of 
rats for a certain sum of money. His terms were accepted; and 
he played on his pipe a shrill tune that brought all the rats out of the 
town, and down to the river where they were drowned. When 
they were gone the people refused to keep their part of the bargain 
by paying the Piper. 

Then he took his pipe and played such a sweet tune that all the 
children in the to^\Ti ran to him. He led them, with his weird 
piping, up to a hill beyond the town : the hill opened and let them all 
in, and their parents never saw them again. One child, a little 
lame boy, was left behind and he told of the wonderful pictures 
that came to the children as the Piper played for them. 

The street through which the Piper led the children, who were 
deaf to the cries and commands of their distracted parents, is called 
the Bungen-Strasse because no drum (Bunge) may be played in it. 
Not long ago two moss-grown crosses marked the spot where the 
children are supposed to have vanished. 

Browning put this legend into verse to amuse a sick child, Willy 
Macready, the son of the actor by that name. 

1 

Hamelin Town's in Brunswick/ 
Bv famous Hanover city; 

The river Weser, deep and wide, 

Washes its wall on the southern side; 

A pleasanter spot you never spied; 
But when begins my ditty, 

Almost five hundred years ago, 

To see the townsfolk suffer so 
From vermin, was a pity. 

^ Brunswick. A division of Prussia or Germany. 

21 



22 SEVENTH YEAR 

2 

They fought the dogs and killed the cats, 

And bit the babies in the cradles, 
And ate the cheeses out of the vats, 

And licked the soup from the cooks' own ladles, 
Split open the kegs of salted sprats, 
Made nests inside men's Sunday hats, 
And even spoiled the women's chats 

By drowning their speaking 

With shrieking and squeaking 
In fifty different sharps and flats, 



At last the people in a body 

To the Town Hall came flocking: 
"'Tis clear," cried they, "our Mayor's a noddy; ^ 

And as for our Corporation — shocking 
To think we buy gowns lined with ermine ^ 
For dolts that can't or won't determine 
What's best to rid us of our vermin! 
You hope, because you're old and obese. 
To find in the furry civic robes ease? 
Rouse up, sirs! Give your brains a racking 
To find the remedy we're lacking, 
• Or, sure as fate, we'll send you packing!" 
At this the Mayor and Corporation 
Quaked with a mighty consternation. 

^ Rats. The whole trouble is explosively and emphatically 
voiced in a single strong, brief word. 

2 Notice the alliteration between consonants in killed, cats, bit, 
babies, etc. This device, together with the vowel melody, makes the 
stanza particularly musical. 

3 Noddy. A simpleton. 

4 Ermine. A costly white fur that has long been associated 
with kings and high officers. 



FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 23 



An hour they sate in council; 

At length the Mayor broke silence: 
"For a guilder ^ I'd my ermine gown sell, 

I wish I were a mile hence! 
It's easy to bid one rack one's brain — 
I'm sure my poor head aches again, 
I've scratched it so, and all in vain. 
Oh for a trap, a trap, a trap!" 
Just as he said this, what should hap 
At the chamber-door but a gentle tap? 
"Bless us," cried the Mayor, "what's that?" 
(\Yith the Corporation as he sat, 
Looking little, though wondrous fat; 
Nor brighter was his eye, nor moister 
Than a too-long-opened oyster. 
Save when at noon his paunch grew mutinous 
For a plate of turtle green and glutinous) 
"Only a scraping of shoes on the mat? 
Anything like the sound of a rat 
Makes my heart go pit-a-pat!" 



"Come in!" the ^Nlayor cried, looking bigger: 
And in did come the strangest figure ! 
His queer long coat from heel to head 
Was half of yellow and half of red. 
And he himself was tall and thin, 
With sharp blue eyes, each like a pin, ^ 
And light loose hair, yet swarthy skin, 
No tuft on cheek nor beard on chin, 

1 Guilder. A Dutch coin worth forty or fifty cents. 



24 SEVENTH YEAR 

But lips where smiles went out and in; 

There was no guessing his kith and kin: 

And nobody could enough admire 

The tall man and his quaint attire. 

Quoth one: "It's as my great-grandsire, 

Starting up at the Trump of Doom's tone, 

Had walked this way from his painted tombstone !'' 



6 

He advanced to the council-table: 

And, "Please your honors," said he, "I'm able, 

By means of a secret charm, to draw 

All creatures living beneath the sun, 

That creep or swim or fly or run. 

After me so as you never saw! 

And I chiefly use my charm 

On creatures that do people harm. 

The mole and toad and newt and viper; 

And people call me the Pied ^ Piper." 

(And here they noticed round his neck 

A scarf of red and yellow stripe, 
To match with his coat of the self-same cheque; 

And at the scarf's end hung a pipe; 
And his fingers, they noticed, were ever straying 
As if impatient to be playing 
Upon this pipe, as low it dangled 
Over his vesture so old-fangled.) 
"Yet," said he, "poor piper as I am, 
In Tartary I freed the Cham,^ 
Last June, from his huge swarm of gnats; 

1 eased in Asia the Nizam 

^ Pied. Of different colors, motley. Compare with pichald, 
spotted like a pie. 

2 Cham. The ruler of Tartary. 



FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 25 

Of a monstrous brood of vampire bats : ^ 

And as for what vour brain bewilders, 

If I can rid your town of rats, 

Will you give me a thousand guilders?" 

"One? fifty thousand!" — was the exclamation 

Of the astonished ]\Iayor and Corporation. 



72 



Into the street the Piper stept, 

Smiling first a little smile, 
As if he knew what magic slept 

In his quiet pipe the while; 
Then like a musical adept. 
To blow the pipe his lips he wrinkled, 
And green and blue his sharp eyes twinkled, 
Like a candle-flame where salt is sprinkled; 
And ere three shrill notes the pipe uttered, 
You heard as if an armv muttered ; 
And the muttering grew into a grumbling; 
And the grumbling grew to a mighty rumbling; 
And out of the houses the rats came tumbling. 
Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats, 
Brown rats, black rats, gray rats, tawny rats, 
Grave old plodders, gay young friskers, 

Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins. 
Cocking tails and pricking whiskers, 

Families by tens and dozens, 
Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives — 
Followed the Piper for their lives. 
From street to street he piped advancing. 
And step for step they followed dancing, 

1 Vanipire-bats. Blood-sucking bats of large size.- 

2 Notice the musical verse again. 



26 SEVENTH YEAR 

Until they came to the river Weser, 
Wherein all plunged and perished ! 

— Save one who, stout as Julius Csesar, 
Swam across and lived to carry 

(As he, the manuscript he cherished) 

To Rat-land home his commentary : 

Which was, "At the first shrill notes of the pipe, 

I heard a sound as of scraping tripe. 

And putting apples, wondrous ripe. 

Into a cider-press's gripe: 

And a moving away of pickle-tub boards, 

And a leaving ajar of conserve-cupboards, 

And a drawing the corks of train-oil flasks, 

And a breaking the hoops of butter casks: 

And it seemed as if a voice 

(Sweeter far than by harp or by psaltery 

Is breathed) called out, 'Oh rats, rejoice! 

The world is grown to one vast drysaltery ! ^ 

So munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon. 

Breakfast, supper, dinner, luncheon!' 

And just as a bulky sugar-puncheon,^ 

All ready staved, like a great sun shone 

Glorious scarce an inch before me. 

Just as methought it said, 'Come, bore me!' 

— I found the Weser rolling o'er me." 



8 

You should have heard the Hamelin people 
Ringing the bells till they rock'd the steeple. 
"Go," cried the Mayor, "and get long poles, 
Poke out the nests and block up the holes! 

1 Drysaltery. A storehouse of dry salted meats, etc. 

2 Nuncheon. Noon or midday meal. 

3 Sugar-puncheon. A large sugar cask. 



2 



FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 27 

Consult with carpenters and builders, 
And leave in our town not even a trace 
Of the rats!" — when suddenly up the face 
Of the Piper perked in the market place, 

With a, "First, if you please, my thousand guilders!" 

9 

A thousand guilders! The INIayor looked blue; 

So did the Corporation too. 

For council dinners made rare havoc 

With Claret, ^Moselle, Vin-de-Grave, Hock; ^ 

And half the money would replenish 

Their cellar's biggest butt with Rhenish. - 

To pay this sum to a wandering fellow 

With a gypsy coat of red and yellow! 

"Beside," quoth the ^Eayor, with a knowing wink, 

"Our business was done at the river's brink; 

We saw with our eyes the vermin sink. 

And what's dead can't come to life, I think. 

So, friend, we're not the folks to shrink 

From the duty of giving you something for drink, 

And a matter of money to put in your poke; 

But as for guilders, what we spoke 

Of them, as you ^'ery well know, was in joke. 

Beside, our losses have made us thrifty. 

A thousand guilders! Come, take fifty.'^ 

10 

The Piper's face fell, and he cried, 
"No trifling! I can't wait, beside! 
Fve promised to visit by dinner time 
Bagdat,^ and accept the prime 

1 Claret, IMoselle, Vin-de-Grave, Hock. Varieties of wines. 

2 Rhenish. Rhine wines, as enumerated above. 

3 Bagdat. A province of Asiatic Turkey. 



28 SEVENTH YEAR 

Of the Head Cook's pottage, all he's rich in, 
For having left, in the Caliph's ^ kitchen. 
Of a nest of scorpions no survivor: 
With him I proved no bargain-driver, 
With you, don't think I'll bate a stiver! 
And folks who put me in a passion 
May find me pipe after another fashion." 

11 

"How?" cried the Mayor, "d'ye think I brook 

Being worse treated than a Cook? 

Insulted bv a lazv ribald ^ 

With idle pipe and vesture piebald? 

You threaten us, fellow? Do your worst, 

Blow your pipe there till you burst!" 

12 3 

Once more he stept into the street, 

And to his lips again 
Laid his long pipe of smooth straight cane; 

And ere he blew three notes (such sweet 
Soft notes as yet musician's cunning 

Never gave the enraptured air) 
There was a rustling that seemed like a bustling 
Of merry crowds justling at pitching and hustling; 
Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering. 
Little hands clapping and little tongues chattering, 
And, like fowls in a farm-yard when barley is scattering, 
Out came the children running. 
All the little boys and girls. 
With rosv cheeks and flaxen curls, 

1 Caliph. The title of the Moslem ruler. 

2 Ribald. A low, disreputable person. 

3 Again the verse changes to the more musical meter. 



FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 29 

And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls, 
Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after 
The wonderful music with shouting and laughter. 



13 

The Mayor was dumb, and the Council stood 

As if they were changed into blocks of wood, 

Unable to move a step, or cry 

To the children merrily skipping by, 

— Could only follow w^ith the eye 

That joyous crowd at the Piper's back. 

But how the Mayor was on the rack. 

And the wretched Council's bosoms beat. 

As the Piper turned from the High Street 

To where the Weser rolled its waters 

Right in the way of their sons and daughters! 

However, he turned from south to west, 

And to Koppelberg Hill his steps addressed, 

And after him the children pressed; 

Great was the joy in every breast. 

"He never can cross the mighty top! 

He's forced to let the piping drop, 

And we shall see our children stop!" 

When lo, as they reached the mountain-side, 

A wondrous portal opened wide. 

As if a cavern was suddenlv hollowed ; 

And the Piper advanced, and the children followed, 

And when all were in to the very last. 

The door in the mountain-side shut fast. 

Did I say all? No! one was lame. 
And could not dance the whole of the way; 

And in after years, if you would blame 
His sadness, he was used to say, — 
"It's dull in our town since my playmates left! 



30 SEVENTH YEAR 

I can't forget that I'm bereft 

Of all the pleasant sights they see, 

Which the Piper also promised me. 

For he led us, he said, to a joyous land, 

Joining the town and just at hand, 

Where waters gushed and fruit trees grew, 

And flowers put forth a fairer hue. 

And everything was strange and new; 

The sparrows were brighter than peacocks here. 

And their dogs outran our fallow deer. 

And honey-bees had lost their stings, 

And horses were born with eagles' wings: 

And just as I became assured 

My lame foot would be speedily cured. 

The music stopped, and I stood still. 

And found myself outside the hill, 

Ivcft alone against my will, 

To go now limping as before, 

And never hear of that country more!'* 

14 

Alas, alas ! for Hamelin ! — 

There came into many a burgher's pate 
A text which says that Heaven's gate 
Opes to the rich at as easy rate 

As the needle's eye ^ takes a camel in! 

The Mayor sent east, west, north, and south. 

To offer the Piper, by word of mouth. 
Wherever it was men's lot to find him. 

Silver and gold to his heart's content. 

If he'd only return the way he went. 
And bring the children behind him. 

1 Needle's eye. See Matthew xix: 24. There was in Jerusalem 
a small city gate, called by this name, for foot passengers only. 



FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 31 

But when they saw 'twas a lost endeavor, 
And Piper and dancers were gone forever, 
They made a decree that lawyers never 

Should think their records dated duly 
If, after the day of the month and year. 
These words did not as well appear, 
"And so long after what happened here 

On the Twenty-second of July, 
Thirteen hundred and seventy-six:" 
And the better in memorv to fix 
The place of the children's last retreat, 
They called it the Pied Piper's Street — 
Where any one playing on pipe or tabor 
Was sure for the future to lose his labor. 
Nor suffered they hostelry or tavern 

To shock with mirth a street so solemn; 
But opposite the place of the cavern 

They wrote the story on a column. 
And on the great church-window painted 
The same, to make the world acquainted 
How their children were stolen away. 
And there it stands to this very day. 
And I must not omit to say 
That in Transvlvania there's a tribe 
Of alien people who ascribe 
The outlandish wavs and dress 
On which their neighbors lay such stress. 
To their fathers and mothers having risen 
Out of some subterraneous prison 
Into which they were trepanned ^ 
Long time ago in a mighty band 
Out of Hamelin town in Brunswick land. 
But how or whv, thev don't understand. 

' Trepanned. Coaxed, enticed. 



32 SEVENTH YEAR 



15 

So, Willy/ let me and you be wipers 
Of scores out with all men — especially pipers ! 
And, whether they pipe us free from rats or from mice, 
If we've promised them aught, let us keep our promise! 

Robert Browning. 



TOPICS FOR COMPOSITIONS 

Description of the first appearance of the Piper. 

Description of the scene where the rats are following the Piper. 

Description of the scene where the Piper demands his pay. 

Description of the scene where the children follow the Piper. 

Description of contrasting pictures. (See stanzas 4-5, 7, 13.) 

Traits of character shown by the Mayor, as representative of 
the Council. 

Characterization of the Piper. 

Changes in the meter to correspond with changes in sentiment 
or subject matter. 

It is suggested that the teacher read or tell to the class the play enti- 
tled "The Piper " by Josephine Preston Peabody (Mrs. Marks). 



HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM 

GHENT TOAIX 

The "good news " carried by the valiant messengers is supposed 
to be news of the treaty of Ghent. This treaty was made in 1576, 
between Holland, Zealand and the Southern Netherlands, against 
the Spanish tyrant, Philip II. The distance in a straight line from 
Ghent to Aix is about sixty miles, but it would be considerably 
greater by the route given in the poem. According to Browning's 
own statement, there is no historical foundation for the incident 
narrated in the poem. 

^ Willy. The child for whom the poem was written. 



FOR APPRECIATIVE RE.U)ING 33 

I SPRANG to the stirrup, and Joris, and he; 

I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three; 

" Good speed ! " cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew; 

"Speed!" echoed the wall to us galloping through; 

Behind shut the postern,^ the lights sank to rest, 

And into the midnight we galloped abreast. 

Not a w^ord to each other; w^e kept the great pace 

Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place; 

I turned in my saddle, and made its girths tight, 

Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique ^ right, 

Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit, 

Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit. 

'Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near 
Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear; 
At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see; 
At Diiffeld, 'twas morning as plain as could be; 
And from Mechelri church steeple we heard the half- 
chime,^ 
So Joris broke silence with, "Yet there is time!" 

At Aershot, up leaped of a sudden the sun. 
And against him the cattle stood black every one, 
To stare through the mist at us galloping past. 
And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last. 
With resolute shoulders, each butting away 
The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray: 

And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back 
For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track; 
And one eye's black intelligence, — ever that glance 
O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance! 

^ Postern. A small gate (in the wall). 

2 Pique. The point. 

' Half chime. Chimes striking the half-hour. 



34 SEVENTH YEAR 

And the thick, heavy spume-flakes, which aye and anon 
His fierce Kps shook upwards in galloping on. 

By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, "Stay spur! 
Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her, 
We'll remember at Aix " — for one heard the quick wheeze 
Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees. 
And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank, 
As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank. 

So, we were left galloping, Joris and I, 

Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky; 

The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh, 

^Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff; 

Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white, 

And "Gallop," gasped Joris, "for Aix is in sight! 

"How they'll greet us! " — and all in a moment his roan ^ 
Rolled neck and croup ^ over, lay dead as a stone; 
And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight 
Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate, 
With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, 
And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim. 

Then I cast loose my buff -coat, each holster ^ let fall, 
Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all. 
Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear, 
Called my Roland his pet-name, my horse without peer; 
Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or 
good, 

Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood. 

* 

1 Roan. A horse of a bay or chestnut color with white hairs 
thickly interspersed. 

2 Neck and croup. Indicates that the horse had fallen flat on 
the ground, as contrasted with the sinking to her haunches of the 
other horse. 

^ Holster. A pistol case, attached to the pommel of the saddle, 
one on each side. 



FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 35 

And all I remember is — friends flocking round 
As I sat with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground; 
And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine, 
As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine, 
Which (the burgesses ^ voted by common consent) 
Was no more than his due who brought good news from 
Ghent. 

Robert Browning. 



TOPICS FOR COMPOSITIONS. 
Description of imaginative scenes, such as that suggested by 

" Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest, 
And into the midnight we galloped abreast." 

Traits of character shown by Roland's master. 

How the meter imitates the galloping of a horse. 

Other stories about horses taken from your own experience. 

HERVE RIEL 

Browning wrote this poem to provide money for the aid of the 
people of Paris after the Franco-German War. He received one 
hundred pounds, or about five hundred dollars, for it. The story 
is true to fact, except that the real Herve Riel asked for a holiday 
for the remainder of his life instead of for one day. 



On the sea and at the Hogue,^ sixteen hundred ninety-two. 

Did the English fight the French, — woe to France ! 
And, the thirty-first of May, helter-skelter through the 
blue 



^ Burgesses. Citizens of a borough or town. 

2 La Hogue. On the northeast coast of Normandy. The battle 
referred to was fought May 19, 1692, between the French fleet on 
the one side and the combined fleets of the English and the Dutch 
on the other. This battle, in which the French were defeated, made 
the northern nations the rulers of the seas. 



36 SEVENTH YEAR 

Like a crowd of frightened porpoises a shoal of sharks 

pursue, 
Came crowding ship on ship to St. Malo ^ on the 

Ranee, 
With the Enghsh fleet in view. 



'Twas the squadron that escaped, with the victor in full 
chase; 
First and foremost of the drove, in his great ship, Dam- 
freville; 
Close on him fled, great and small. 
Twenty-two good ships in all; 
And they signalled to the place 
"Help the winners of a race! 

Get us guidance, give us harbor, take us quick — or, 

quicker still. 
Here's the English can and will!" 

3 

Then the pilots of the place put out brisk and leapt on 
board ; 
"Why, what hope or chance have ships like these to 
pass?" laughed they: 
"Rocks to starboard, rocks to port, all the passage 

scarred and scored, 
Shall the 'Formidable' here with her twelve and eighty 
guns 
Think to make the river-mouth by the single narrow 
way, 
Trust to enter where 'tis ticklish for a craft of twenty tons, 
And with flow at full beside? 
Now, 'tis slackest ebb of tide. 



^ St. Malo. A town on the river Ranee. 



FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 37 



Reach the mooring? Rather say, 
While rock stands or water runs, 
Not a ship will leave the bay!" 



Then was called a council straight. 

Brief and bitter the debate: 

"Here's the English at our heels; would you have them 

take in tow 
All that's left us of the fleet, linked together stern and 

bow, 
For a prize to Plymouth Sound? ^ 
Better run the ships agroimd I " 

(Ended Damfreville his speech). 
" Not a minute more to wait ! 
Let the Captains all and each 

Shove ashore, then blow up, burn the vessels on the 
beach ! 
France must undergo her fate. 



"Give the word!" But no such word 
Was ever spoke or heard ; 

For up stood, for out stepped, for in struck amid all 
these 
— A Captain? A Lieutenant? A Mate — first, second, 
third? 
No such man of mark, and meet 
With his betters to compete! 

1 Plymouth Sound. Between Devonshire and Cornwall, south- 
western part of England. 



38 SEVENTH YEAR 

But a simple Breton ^ sailor pressed ^ by Tourville ^ for 
the fleet, 
A poor coasting pilot, he, Herve Riel the Croisickese.^ 



6 

And, "What mockery or malice have we here?"' cried 
Herve Riel: 
"Are you mad, you Malouins? ^ Are you cowards, 
fools, or rogues? 
Talk to me of rocks and shoals, me, who took the sound- 
ings, tell 
On my fingers every bank, every shallow, every swell, 
'Twixt the offing here and Greve, where the river dis- 
embogues? ^ 
Are you bought by English gold? Is it love the lying's 
for? 
Morn and eve, night and day, 
Have I piloted your bay. 
Entered free and anchored fast at the foot of Solidor." 
Burn the fleet, and ruin France? That were worse than 
fifty Hogues! 
Sirs, then know I speak the truth! Sirs, believe 
me,. there's a way! 
Only let me lead the line, 

Have the biggest ship to steer, 
Get this ' Formidable ' clear, 
Make the others follow mine. 



* Breton. Inhabitant of Brittany. 
2 Pressed. Impressed or drafted. 

2 Tourville. Admiral of the French Navy. 

* Croisickese. A native of Le Croisic, a village of Brittany. 
5 Malouins. Inhabitants of St. Malo. 

* Disembogues. Empties. 

^ Solidor. A safe, fortified harbor on the mainland. 



FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 39 

And I lead them, most and least, by a passage I know well, 
Right to Solidor past Greve, 

And there lav them safe and sound: 
And if one ship misbehave, 

— Keel so much as grate the ground 
Why, I've nothing but my life, — here's my head!" cries 
Herve Riel. 



Not a minute more to wait. 
''Steer us in, then, small and great! 

Take the helm, lead the line, save the squadron!" cried 
its chief. 
Captains, give the sailor place! 

He is Admiral, in brief. 
Still the north-wind, by God's grace!" 
See the noble fellow's face 
As the big ship, with a bound, 
Gears the entrv like a hound. 

Keeps the passage as its inch of way were the wide sea's 
profound ! 

See, safe through shoal and rock, 

How thev fol'ow in a flock, 
Not a ship that misbehaves, not a keel that grates the 
ground. 

Not a spar that comes to grief! 
The peril, see, is past, 
All are harbored to the last, 

And just as Herve Riel hollas "Anchor!" — sure as fate, 
Up the English come — too late! 

8 

So, the storm subsides to calm: 
They see the green trees wave 
On the heights o'erlooking Greve. 



40 SEVENTH YEAR 

Hearts that bled are stanched with balm. 
"Just our rapture to enhance, 

Let the English rake the bay, 
Gnash their teeth and glare askance 

As they cannonade away! 
'Neath the rampired ^ Solidor pleasant riding on the 

Ranee!" 
How hope succeeds despair on each captain's counte- 
nance ! 
Out burst all with one accord, 
" This is Paradise for Hell ! 
Let France, let France's King 
Thank the man that did the thing!" 
What a shout, and all one word, 

"HerveRiel!" 
As he stepped in front once more, 
Not a symptom of surprise 
In the frank blue Breton eyes, 
Just the same man as before. 



9 

Then said Damfreville, "My friend, 
I must speak out at the end, 

Though I find that speaking hard. 
Praise is deeper than the lips: 
You have saved the King his ships. 

You must name vour own reward. 
'Faith, our sun was near eclipse! 
Demand whate'er you will, 
France remains your debtor still. 

Ask to heart's content, and have! or my name's not 
Damfreville." 

1 Rampired. Fortified. 



FOR APPRECIATIVE READING • 41 

10 

Then a beam of fun outbroke 
On the bearded mouth that spoke, 
As the honest heart laughed through 
Those frank eyes of Breton bhie: 
"Since I needs must say my say, 

Since on board the duty's done. 

And from Malo Roads to Croisic Point, what is it but 
a run? — 
Since 'tis ask and have, I may — 

Since the others go ashore — 
Come! A good whole holiday! 

Leave to go and see my wife, whom I call the Belle 
Aurore!" ^ 

That he asked and that he got, — nothing more. 

11 

Name and deed alike are lost: 
Not a pillar nor a post 

In his Croisic keeps alive the feat as it befell; 
Not a head in white and black 
On a single fishing smack, 
In memory of the man but for whom had gone to wrack 

All that France saved from the fight whence England 
bore the bell.^ 
Go to Paris: rank on rank 

Search the heroes flung pell-mell 
On the Louvre,^ face and flank! 

You shall look long enough ere you come to Herve 
Riel. 

^ Belle Aurore. Literally, "beautiful dawn." 
2 Bore the bell. Won the prize. 

^ Louvre. The art gallery of Paris, wherein hang the pictures 
of famous heroes. 



42 SEVENTH YEAR 

So, for better and for worse, 
Herve Kiel, accept my verse! 
In my verse, Herve Kiel, do thou once more 
Save the squadron, honor France, love thy wife the Belle 
Aurore ! 

Robert Browning. 



TOPICS FOR COMPOSITIONS 

Description of the opening scene or setting. (See stanzas 1-2.) 
Description of the scene when Herve Riel steps forward. 
Description of Herve Riel. (See stanzas 5, 7, 10.) 
Traits of character displayed by Herve Riel. 
Herve Riel's reward compared with other rewards about which 
you have known. 

IVRY 

A SONG OF THE HUGUENOTS 

The battle of Ivry was fought on March 14, 1590. It was 
between the Catholic League under the leadership of the Duke of 
Mayenne and the Huguenots under Henry, King of Navarre, the 
rightful claimant of the throne of France. The poem is a song of 
victory in commemoration of the battle. The hero was later 
crowned as Henry IV. 

Now glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all glories are ! 

And glory to our Sovereign Liege, King Henry of Navarre! 

Now let there be the merrv sound of music and of dance, 

Through thy corn-fields green, and sunny vines, O pleas- 
ant land of France! 

And thou, Rochelle,^ our own Rochelle, proud city of the 
waters, 

Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning 
daughters. 

1 Rochelle. A town on the bay of Biscay. It was the chief 
stronghold of the Huguenots. 



FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 43 

As thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our joy, 
For cold, and stiff, and still are they who wrought thy 

walls annoy. 
Hurrah ! hurrah ! a single field hath turned the chance of 

war. 
Hurrah ! hurrah ! for Ivry,^ and Henry of Navarre. 

Oh! how our hearts were beating when, at the dawn of 
day, 

We saw the army of the League drav^n out in long array; 

With all its priest-led citizens, and all its rebel-peers. 

And Appenzel's stout infantry, and Egmont's Flemish 
spears. 

There rode the brood of false Lorraine,^ the curses of our 
land; 

And dark INIayenne was in the midst, a truncheon in his 
hand: 

And, as we looked on them, we thought of Seine's em- 
purpled flood. 

And good Coligni's ^ hoary hair all dabbled with his blood ; 

And we cried unto the living God, who rules the fate of 
war, 

To fight for his own holy name, and Henry of Navarre. 

The King is come to marshal us, in all his armor drest. 
And he has bound a snow-white plume ^ upon his gallant 

crest. 
He looked upon his people, and a tear was in his eye; 

1 Ivry. A village forty-two miles west of Paris. A memorial 
pyramid marks the battlefield. 

2 Lorraine. The family name of the Dukes of Guise was Lor- 
raine. The Lorraines were leaders of the Catholics. 

3 Coligni. A noted Huguenot general, at one time Prime Min- 
ister of France. He was the first victim of the massacre of St. 
Bartholomew, in which thousands of Huguenots perished. 

4 Snow-white plume. The Protestants from 1562 on wore white 
as their emblem. White later became the royal color. 



44 SEVENTH YEAR 

He looked upon the traitors, and his glance was stern and 

high. 
Right graciously he smiled on us, as rolled from wing to 

wing, 
Down all our line, a deafening shout, " God save our Lord 

the King I" 
" And if my standard-bearer fall, as fall full well he may, 
For never saw I promise yet of such a bloody fray, 
Press where ye see my white plume shine, amidst the 

ranks of war. 
And be your oriflamme ^ to-day the helmet of Navarre." 

Hurrah! the foes are moving. Hark to the mingled din 
Of fife, and steed, and trump, and drum, and roaring 

culverin ! 
The fiery Duke ^ is pricking fast across St. Andre's plain. 
With all the hireling chivalry of Guelders ^ and Almayne.^ 
Now by the lips of those ye love, fair gentlemen of France, 
Charge for the golden lilies,^ — upon them with the lance. 
A thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousand spears in 

rest, 
A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow- 
white crest; 
And in they burst, and on they rushed, while, like a 

guiding star. 
Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of Navarre. 

Now, God be praised, the day is ours. Mayenne hath 
turned his rein. 

1 Oriflamme. Literally a flame of gold; it means a bright battle 
standard. The white plume could readily be seen by Henry's 
followers. • 

2 Fiery Duke. The Duke of Mayenne. 
^ Guelders. A Netherland province. 

* Almayne. Also Allemagne. The French name for Germany. 
5 Golden liUes. The royal flag was blue with golden lilies. 



FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 45 

D'Aumale hath cried for quarter. The Flemish count is 

slain. 
Their ranks are breaking like thin clouds before a Biscay 

gale; 
The field is heaped with bleeding steeds, and flags, and 

cloven mail. 
And then we thought on vengeance, and, all along our 

van, 
"Remember St. Bartholomew!" ^ was passed from man 

to man. 
But out spake gentle Henry, "No Frenchman is my 

foe: 
Down, down, with every foreigner, but let your brethren 

go- 

Oh ! was there ever such a knight, in friendship or in 
war, 

As our Sovereign Lord, King Henry, the soldier of Na- 
varre? 

Bight well fought all the Frenchmen who fought for 

France to-day; 
And many a lordly banner God gave them for a prey. 
But we of the religion have borne us best in fight; 
And the good Lord of Rosny ^ hath ta'en the cornet white. 
Our own true Maximilian the cornet white hath ta'en, 
The cornet white w^ith crosses black, the flag of false 

Lorraine. 
Up with it high; unfurl it wide; that all the host may 

know 
How^ God hath humbled the proud house which wrought 

his Church such woe. 

1 St. Bartholomew. A massacre of French Protestants on St. 
Bartholomew's Day, August 23-24, 1572. The Duke of Guise 
had been one of the leaders in this massacre. 

2 Lord of Rosny. Maximilian, Lord of Rosny, became the 
leader of the liberal party in France. 



46 SEVENTH YEAR 

Then on the ground, while trumpets sound their loudest 

point of war, 
Fling the red shreds, a footcloth meet for Henry of 

Navarre. 

Ho! maidens of Vienna; ^ ho! matrons of Lucerne; 
Weep, weep, and rend your hair for those who never shall 

return. 
Ho ! Philip,^ send, for charity, thy Mexican pistoles,^ 
That Antwerp ^ monks may sing a mass for thy poor 

spearmen's souls. 
Ho! gallant nobles of the League, look that your arms 

be bright; 
Ho! burghers of St. Genevieve, keep watch and ward 

to-night. 
For our God hath crushed the tyrant, our God hath 

raised the slave. 
And mocked the counsel of the wise, and the valor of the 

brave; 
Then glory to his holy name, from whom all glories are; 
And glory to our Sovereign Lord, King Henry of Navarre. 

Thomas Babington Macaulay. 



TOPICS FOR COMPOSITIONS 

Description of Henry of Navarre. 
Description of the scene at the moment when 

" A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow-white 
crest." 

^ Vienna. Don John of Austria, brother of Philip II, was a 
member of the Catholic League. 

2 Philip. Philip II of Spain, one of the leaders of the League. 

3 Mexican pistoles. Coins gained from the Spanish conquest of 
Mexico. 

* Antwerp. Philip also had control of the Netherlands. 



FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 47 

Description of the scene after the battle is over. 

Impressions of Henry of Navarre's character, gained from 
the poem. 

A comparison of the swing and speed of the verse with the 
meter of " How They Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix." 

Note that in this poem the meter is alike all the way through to 
fit the sameness of the theme and feeling ; then compare this meter 
with the irregularity of " The Pied Piper of Hamelin." 



MEMORY GEMS 

"Honor thy father and thy mother" stands written 
among the three laws of most revered righteousness. 

^SCHYLUS. 



Keep the golden mean between saying too much and 
too little. ) 

Syrus. 

Man is not the creature of circumstances: circum- 
stances are the creatures of man. 

Disraeli. 



Nothing great was ever achieved without enthusiasm. 

Emerson. 



Be noble! And the nobleness that lies 
In other men, sleeping but never dead, 
Will rise in majesty to meet thine own. 

Lowell. 



'Tis not what man does which exalts him, but what 
man would do. 

Browning. 



To him who in the love of nature holds 
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks 
A various language. 

Bryant. 

. 48 



MEMORY GEMS 49 

There is a t'de in the affairs of men 
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; 
Omitted, all the voyage of their life 
Is bound in shallows and in miseries. 

Shakespeare. 

Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, 
Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of stee\ 

Shakespeare. 

Oh, many a shaft at random sent, 

Finds mark the archer little meant! 

And many a word at random spoken. 

May soothe or wound a heart that's broken. 

Scott. 

For of all sad words of tongue or pen 
The saddest are these: " It might have been ! " ' 

Whittier. 

Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed 
and some few to be chewed and digested. 

Bacon. 

Truth is as impossible to be soiled by any outward 
touch as the sunbeam. 

Milton. 

'Tis education forms the common mind ! 
Just as the twig is bent, the tree's inclined. 

Pope. 

Procrastination is the thief of time. ^ 

Young. 

Labor to keep alive in your breast the little spark of 
celestial fire, Conscience. 

Washington. 



50 SEVENTH YEAR 

Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control — 
These three alone lead life to sovereign power. \ 

Tennyson. 

Life is a leaf of paper white, 

Whereon each one of us may write 

His word or two; and then comes night. 

Though thou have time 

But for a line, be that sublime; 

Not failure, but low aim is crime. 

Lowell. 

Heaven is not reached at a single bound, 
But we build the ladder by which we rise ^ 

From the lowly earth to the lofty skies, 

And we mount to the summit round by round. 

Holland. 

Books are the legacies that genius leaves to mankind. 



The mind has a thousand eyes, 

And the heart but one; 
Yet the light of a whole life dies 

When love is done. 

BOURDILLON. 

But dost thou love life? Then do not waste time, for 
that's the stuff life is made of. f- 

Franklin. 

The heights by great men reached and kept. 

Were not attained by sudden flight. 
But they, while their companions slept. 

Were toiling upwards in the night. 

' Longfellow. 



HISTORY POEMS FOR COLLATERAL READING 

f 

POCAHONTAS 

Wearied arm and broken sword 
Wage in vain the desperate fight; 

Round him press a countless horde. 
He is but a single knight. 

Hark! a cry of triumph shrill 

Through the wilderness resounds, 
As, with twenty bleeding wounds. 

Sinks the warrior, fighting still. 

Now they heap the funeral pyre, 

And the torch of death they light; 
Ah ! 'tis hard to die bv fire ! 

Who will shield the captive knight? 
Round the stake with fiendish cry 

Wheel and dance the savage crowd; 

Cold the victim's mien and proud. 
And his breast is bared to die. 

Who will shield the fearless heart? 

Who avert the murderous blade? 
From the throng with sudden start 

See, there springs an Indian maid. 
Quick she stands before the knight: 

"Loose the chain, unbind the ring! 

I am the daughter of the king. 
And I claim the Indian right!" 

51 



52 SEVENTH YEAR 

Dauntlessly aside she flings 

Lifted axe and thirsty knife, 
Fondly to his heart she dings, 

And her bosom guards his Hfe! 
In the woods of Powhattan, 

Still 'tis told by Indian fires 

How a daughter of their sires 
Saved a captive Englishman. 

William Makepeace Thackeray. 



PAUL REVERE'S RIDE 

Listen, my children, and you shall hear 

Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, 

On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five; 

Hardly a man is now alive 

Who remembers that famous day and year. 

He said to his friend, '' If the British march 
By land or sea from the town to-night, 
Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch 
Of the North •Church tower as a signal light, — 
One, if by land, and two, if by sea; 
And I on the opposite shore will be, 
Ready to ride and spread the alarm 
Through every Middlesex village and farm. 
For the country folk to be up and to arm. " 

Then he said, "Good night!" and with muffled oar 
Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore, 
Just as the moon rose over the bay, 
Where swinging wide at her moorings lay 
The Somerset, British man-of-war; 



HISTORY POEMS FOR COLLATERAL READING 53 

A phantom ship, with each mast and spar 
Across the moon Uke a prison bar, 
And a huge black hulk, that was magnified 
By its own reflection in the tide. 

Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street, 
Wanders and watches with eager ears. 
Till in the silence around him he hears 
The muster of men at the barrack door. 
The sound of arms and the tramp of feet. 
And the measured tread of the grenadiers. 
Marching down to their boats on the shore. 

Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church, 

By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread. 

To the belfry-chamber overhead, 

And startled the pigeons from their perch 

On the sombre rafters, that round him made 

Masses and moving shapes of shade, — 

By the trembling ladder, steep and tall. 

To the highest window in the wall. 

Where he paused to listen and look down 

A moment on the roofs of the town, 

And the moonlight flowing over all. 

Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead. 

In their night-encampment on the hill. 

Wrapped in silence so deep and still 

That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread, 

The watchful night-wind, as it went 

Creeping along from tent to tent. 

And seeming to whisper, "All is well!" 

A moment only he feels the spell 

Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread 

Of the lonely belfry and the dead; 



54 SEVENTH YEAR 

For suddenly all his thoughts are bent 
On a shadowy something far away, 
Where the river widens to meet the bay, — 
A line of black that bends and floats 
On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats. 

Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride, 
Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride 
On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere. 
Now he patted his horse's side, 
Now gazed at the landscape far and near. 
Then, impetuous, stamped the earth. 
And turned and tightened his saddle-girth; 
But mostly he watched with eager search 
The belfry-tower of the Old North Church, 
As it rose above the graves on the hill, 
Lonely and spectral and sombre and still. 
And lo ! as he looks, on the belfry's height 
A glimmer, and then a gleam of light! 
He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns, 
But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight 
A second lamp in the belfry burns! 

A hurry of hoofs in a village street, 

A shape in the moonlight, g, bulk in the dark, 

And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark 

Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet: 

That was all ! And yet, through the gloom and the light. 

The fate of a nation was riding that night; 

And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight, 

Kindled the land into flames with its heat. 

He has left the village and mounted the steep. 
And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep. 
Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides; 
And under the alders that skirt its edge, 



HISTORY POEMS FOR COLLATERAL READING 55 

Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge, 
Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides. 

It was twelve by the village clock. 

When he crossed the bridge into ]Medford town. 

He heard the crowing of the cock. 

And the barking of the farmer's dog. 

And felt the damp of the river fog, 

That rises after the sun goes down. 

It was one by the village clock. 

When he galloped into Lexington. 

He saw the gilded weathercock 

Swim in the moonlight as he passed. 

And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare. 

Gaze at him with a spectral glare, 

As if thev alreadv stood aghast 

At the bloody work they would look upon. 

It was two by the village clock. 

When he came to the bridge in Concord town. 

He heard the bleating of the flock. 

And the twitter of birds among the trees. 

And felt the breath of the morning breeze 

Blowing over the meadows brown. 

And one was safe and asleep in his bed 

W^ho at the bridge would be first to fall. 

Who that day would be Iving dead, 

Pierced bv a British musket-ball. 

You know the rest. In the books you have read. 
How the British Regulars fired and fled, — ■ 
How the farmers gave them ball for ball, 
From behind each fence and farm-yard wall. 



56 SEVENTH YEAR 

Chasing the red-coats down the lane, 
Then crossing the fields to emerge again 
Under the trees at the turn of the road, 
And only pausing to fire and load. 

So through the night rode Paul Revere; 

And so through the night went his cry of alarm 

To every Middlesex village and farm, — 

A cry of defiance and not of fear, 

A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door, 

And a word that shall echo forevermore! 

For, borne on the night-wind of the Past, 

Through all our history, to the last, 

In the hour of darkness and peril and need. 

The people will waken and listen to hear 

The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed. 

And the midnight message of Paul Revere. 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 

CONCORD HYIVIN 

SUNG AT THE COMPLETION OF THE BATTLE 
MONUMENT, APRIL 19, 1836 

By the rude bridge that arched the flood, 
Their flag to April's breeze unfurled, 

Here once the embattled farmers stood, 
And fired the shot heard round the world. 

The foe long since in silence slept; 

Alike the conqueror silent sleeps; 
And Time the ruined bridge has swept 

Down the dark stream which seaward creeps. 

On this green bank, by this soft stream. 
We set to-dav a votive stone; 



HISTORY POEMS FOR COLLATERAL READING 57 

That memory may their deed redeem, 
When, hke our sires, our sons are gone. 

Spirit, that made those heroes dare 
To die, and leaye their children free, 

Bid Time and Nature gently spare 
The shaft we raise to them and thee. 

Ralph Waldo Emerson. 



WARREN'S ADDRESS TO THE A:\IERICAN 

SOLDIERS 

Stand! the ground's your own, my brayes! 
Will ye giye it up to slayes? 
Will ye look for greener grayes? 

Hope ye mercy still? 
WTiat's the mercy despots feel? 
Hear it in that battle-peal! 
Read it on yon bristling steel! 

Ask it, — ye who will. 

Fear ye foes who kill for hire? 
Will ye to your homes retire? 
Look behind you! they're afire! 

And, before you, see 
WTio haye done it ! — From the yale 
On they come! — And will ye quail? — 
Leaden rain and iron hail 

Let their welcome be! 

In the God of battles trust ! 

Die we may, — and die we must; 



58 SEVENTH YEAR 

But, oh, where can dust to dust 

Be consigned so well. 
As where Heaven its dews shall shed 
On the martyred patriot's bed, 
And the rocks shall raise their head, 

Of his deeds to tell ! 

John Pierpont. 



SONG OF MARION'S MEN 

Our band is few, but true and tried, 

Our leader frank and bold; 
The British soldier trembles 

When Marion's name is told. 
Our fortress is the good greenwood, 

Our tent the cypress-tree; 
We know the forest round us, 

As seamen know the sea. 
We know its walls of thorny vines. 

Its glades of reedy grass, 
Its safe and silent islands 

Within the dark morass. 



Woe to the English soldiery 

That little dread us near! 
On them shall light at midnight 

A strange and sudden fear; 
When waking to their tents on fire 

They grasp their arms in vain, 
And they w^ho stand to face us 

Are beat to earth again; 
And they who fly in terror deem 

A mighty host behind. 



HISTORY POEMS FOR COLLATERAL READING 59 

And hear the tramp of thousands 
Upon the hollow wind. 



Then sweet the hour that brings release 

From danger and from toil: 
We talk the battle over, 

And share the battle's spoil. 
The woodland rings with laugh and shout, 

As if a hunt were up. 
And woodland flowers are gathered 

To crown the soldier's cup. 
With merry songs we mock the wind 

That in the pine-top grieves, 
And slumber long and sweetly, 

On beds of oaken leaves. 



Well knows the fair and friendly moon 

The band that ]\Iarion leads — 
The glitter of their rifles, 

The scampering of their steeds. 
'Tis life to guide the fiery barb 

Across the moonlight plain; 
'Tis life to feel the night-wind 

That lifts his tossing mane. 
A moment in the British camp — 

A moment — and awav 
Back to the pathless forest, 

Before the peep of day. 

Grave men there are by broad Santee, 
Grave men with hoary hairs, 

Their hearts are all with ]Marion, 
For Marion are their prayers. 



60 SEVENTH YEAR 

And lovely ladies greet our band, 

With kindliest welcoming, 
With smiles like those of summer, 

And tears like those of spring. 
For them we wear these trusty arms. 

And lav them down no more 
Till we have driven the Briton, 

Forever, from our shore. 

Willi A^i Cullen Bryant. 

Joaquin Miller'' s " Columbus " is also included among the History 
Poems designated for Collateral Reading in the Seventh Year. See 
'^Selections for Memorizing," Seventh Year, page 11. 



EIGHTH YEAR 



SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 
BATTLE HYIVIN OF THE REPUBLIC 

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the 

Lord; 
He is tramphng out the vintage where the grapes of 

wrath are stored; 
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift 

sword : 

His truth is marching on. 

I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling 
camps ; 

Thev have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and 
damps; 

I have read His righteous sentence by the dim and flar- 
ing lamps: 

His dav is marching on. 

I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnished rows of steel; 
" As ye deal with My contemners, so with you My grace 

shall deal; 
Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with 

his heel : 

Since God is marching on." 

He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call 
retreat; 

61 



62 EIGHTH YEAR 

He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment 

seat; 
Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him! be jubilant, mv 

feet! 

Our God is marching on. 

In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea. 
With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me; 
As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free, 
While God is marching on. 

Julia Ward Howe. 

By permission of Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co. 



RECESSIONAL 

God of our fathers, known of old. 
Lord of our far-flung battle line — 
Beneath whose awful Hand we hold 
Dominion over palm and pine — 
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, 
Lest we forget — lest we forget ! 

The tumult and the shouting dies — 
The Captains and the Kings depart - 
Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice. 
An humble and a contrite heart. 
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet. 
Lest we forget — lest we forget ! 

Far-called our navies melt away — 
On dune and headland sinks the fire - 
liO, all our pomp of yesterday 
Is one with Nineveh and Tvre! 
Judge of the Nations, spare us yet. 
Lest we forget — lest we forget ! 



SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 63 

If, drunk with sight of power, we loose 
Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe — 
Such boastings as the Gentiles use, 
Or lesser breeds without the Law — 
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, 
Lest we forget — lest we forget ! 

For heathen heart that puts her trust 
In reeking tube and iron shard — 
All valiant dust that builds on dust. 
And guarding calls not Thee to guard. 
For frantic boast and foolish word, 
Thy Mercy on Thy People, Lord ! 

RuDYARD Kipling. 



GETTYSBURG ADDRESS 

Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought 
forth upon this continent a new^ nation, conceived in 
liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men 
are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil 
war, testing w^hether that nation, or any nation so con- 
ceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met 
on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to 
dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting place 
for those who here gave their lives that that nation 
might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we 
should do this. But in a larger sense we cannot dedi- 
cate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. 
The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, 
have consecrated it far above our power to add or de- 
tract. The world will little note, nor long remember, 
what we say here; but it can never forget what they 
did here. It is for us, the living, rather to be dedicated 



64 EIGHTH YEAR 

here to the unfinished work which they wlio fought here 
have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to 
be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us, 
that from these honored dead we take increased devo- 
tion to that cause for which they gave the last full meas- 
ure of devotion; that we here highly resolve that these 
dead shall not have died in vain; that this nation, under 
God, shall have a new birth of freedom, and that gov- 
ernment of the people, by the people, and for the people, 
shall not perish from the earth. 

Abraham Lincoln. 



ON BOOKS 

The conviction deepens in me that the best possible 
education which any man can acquire is an intimate 
acquaintance with these few great minds who have 
escaped the wrecks of time and have become, with the 
lapse of years, a kind of impersonal wisdom, summing 
up the common experiences of the race and distilling it 
drop by drop into the perfect forms of art. 

The man who knows his Homer thoroughly knows 
more about the Greeks than he who has familiarized 
himself with all the work of the archieologists and the 
philologists and mythologists of the Homeric age. 

The man who has mastered Dante has penetrated the 
secret of medisevalism; the man who counts Shake- 
speare as his friend can afford to leave most of the 
books about Elizabethan England unread. 

To really know Homer, Dante, Shakespeare and 
Goethe is to know the best the world has thought and 
said and done, is to enter into that inheritance of ex- 
perience and knowledge which is the truest and, at 
bottom, the only education. 



SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 65 

Most of US know too manv writers, and waste our 
strength in a vain endeavor to establish relations of in- 
timacy with a multitude of men, great and small, who 
profess to have some claim upon us. 

It is both pleasant and wise to have a large acquaint- 
ance, to know life broadly, and at its best, but our in- 
timate friends can never, in the nature of things, be 
many. 

We may know a host of interesting people, but 
we can really live with but a few. And it is these 
few and faithful ones, whose names I see in the dying 
light of the old year and the first, faint gleam of the 
new. 

Hamilton Wright Mabie. 

Used by permission from "My Study Fire;" copyright, 1899, by 

Dodd, Mead & Company. 



ON BOOKS 

The same book may be read in entirely different ways 
and with entirelv diflFerent results. One mav, for in- 
stance, read Shakespeare's historical plays simply for 
the story element which runs through them, and for the 
interest which the skillful use of that element excites; 
and in such a reading there will be distinct gain for the 
reader. This is the way in w^hich a healthy boy gener- 
ally reads these plays for the first time. From such a 
reading one will get information and refreshment; more 
than one English statesman has confessed that he owed 
his knowledge of certain periods of English history 
largely to Shakespeare. On the other hand, one may 
read these plays for the joy of the art that is in them, 
and for the enrichment which comes from contact with 
the deep and tumultuous life which throbs through 



66 EIGHTH YEAR 

them; and this is the kind of reading which produces 
culture, the reading which means enlargement and 
ripening. 

Hamilton Wright Mabie. 

Used by permission from "Books and Culture;" copyright, 1899, 

by Dodd, Mead & Company. 

REATHES THERE A MAN WITH 
SOUL SO DEAD 

From "The Lay of the Last Minstrel " 

Breathes there the man with soul so dead, 
W^ho never to himself hath said, 
This is my own, my native land ! 
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd. 
As home his footsteps he hath turn'd. 
From wandering on a foreign strand? 
If such there breathe, go, mark him well; 
For him no minstrel raptures swell; 
High though his titles, proud his name. 
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim — 
Despite those titles, power, and pelf. 
The wretch, concenter'd all in self. 
Living, shall forfeit fair renown. 
And doubly dying, shall go down 
To the vile dust from whence he sprung. 
Unwept, unhonor'd, and unsung. 

Sir Walter Scott. 



A MORNING SONG 

From " Cymheline 



j> 



Hark ! hark ! the lark at heaven's gate sings, 
And Pha^bus 'gins arise, 



SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 67 

His steeds to water at those springs 
On chaliced flowers that Hes; 
And winking Mary-buds begin 
To ope their golden eyes: 
With everything that pretty is, 
My lady sweet, arise: 
Arise, arise! 

William Sil\kespeare. 



AT MORNING 

The day returns and brings us the petty round of 
irritating concerns and duties. Help us to play the 
man, help us to perform them with laughter and kind 
faces, let cheerfulness abound with industry. Give us 
to go blithely on our business all this day, bring us to 
our resting beds weary and content and undishonored, 
and grant us in the end the gift of sleep. 

Robert Louis Stevenson. 



SONG OF THE CAMP 

"Give us a song!" the soldiers cried, 

The outer trenches guarding, 
When the heated guns of the camps allied 

Grew weary of bombarding. 

The dark Redan, in silent scoff, 
Lay grim and threatening, under; 

And the tawnv mound of the Malakoff 
No longer belched its thunder. 

There was a pause. A guardsman said, 
" We storm the forts to-morrow; 



68 EIGHTH YEAR 

Sing while we may, another day 
Will bring enough of sorrow/' 

They lay along the battery's side, 
Below the smoking cannon, — 

Brave hearts, from Severn and from Clyde, 
And from the banks of Shannon. 

They sang of love, and not of fame; 

Forgot was Britain's glory: 
Each heart recalled a different name, 

But all sang "Annie Laurie." 

Voice after voice caught up the song, 

Until its tender passion 
Rose like an anthem, rich and strong, — 

Their battle-eve confession. 

Dear girl, her name he dared not speak; 

But, as the song grew louder. 
Something upon the soldier's cheek 

Washed off the stains of powder. 

Beyond the darkening ocean burned 

The bloody sunset's embers. 
While the Crimean valleys learned 

How English love remembers. 

And once again a fire of hell 

Rained on the Russian quarters. 

With scream of shot, and burst of shell, 
And bellowing of the mortars! 

And Irish Nora's eves are dim 
For a singer, dumb and gory; 



SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 69 

And English Mary mourns for him 
Who sang of ''Annie Laurie." 

Sleep, soldiers! still in honored rest 

Your trust and valor wearing! 
The bravest are the tenderest, — 

The loving are the daring. 

Bayard Taylor. 

By permission of Houghton, Mifflin Company. 



BUGLE SONG 

The splendor falls on castle walls 

And snowy summits old in story; 
The long light shakes across the lakes, 

And the wild cataract leaps in glory. 
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying; 
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes — dying, dying, dying. 

O hark, O hear! how thin and clear, 

And thinner, clearer, farther going! 
O sweet and far, from cliff and scar, 

The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! 
Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying; 
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes — dying, dying, dying. 

O love! they die in yon rich sky. 

They faint on hill, or field or river; 
Our echoes roll from soul to soul. 

And grow forever and forever. 
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying; 
And answer, echoes, answer — dying, dying, dying. 

Alfred, Lord Tennyson. 



70 EIGHTH YEAR 

THE ANGLER'S REVEILLE 

What time the rose of dawn is laid across the hps of night, 
And all the drowsy little stars have fallen asleep in light; 
'Tis then a wandering wind awakes, and runs from tree to 

tree, 
And borrows words from ail the birds to sound the reveille. 
This is the carol the Robin throws 

Over the edge of the valley; 
Listen how boldly it flows, 
Sally on sally: 

Tirra-lirra, 
Down the river. 
Laughing water 
, All a-quiver. 

Day is near, 
Clear, clear. 
Fish are breaking. 
Time for waking, 
Tup, tup, tup! 
Do you hear? 
All clear — 
Wake up! 

The phantom flood of dreams has ebbed and vanished 

with the dark. 
And like a dove the heart forsakes the prison of the ark; 
Now forth she fares through friendly woods and diamond- 
fields of dew, 
Wliile every voice cries out "Rejoice!" as if the world 
were new, 

This is the ballad the Bluebird sings, 

l^nto his mate replying, 
Shaking the tune from his wings 
While he is flying: 



SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 71 

Surely, surely, surely, 

life is dear 

Even here. 

Blue above, 

You to love, 
Purely, purely, purely. 

There's a wild azalea on the hill, and roses down the dell, 
And just one spray of lilac still abloom beside the well ; 
The columbine adorns the rocks, the laurel buds grow pink, 
Along the stream white arums gleam, and violets bend to 
drink. 

This is the song of the Yellowthroat, 

Fluttering gaily beside you; 
Hear how each voluble note 
Offers to guide you: 

Which wav, sir? 

I say, sir, 
Let me teach you, 

I beseech you! 
Are you wishing 

Jolly fishing? 
This way, sir! 

I'll teach you. 

Then come, my friend, forget your foes, and leave your 

fears behind. 
And wander forth to try your luck, with cheerful quiet 

mind ; 
For be your fortune great or small, you'll take what God 

may give. 
And all the day your heart shall say, " 'Tis luck enough 

to five." 



72 EIGHTH YEAR 

This is the song the Brown Thrush flings, 

Out of his thicket of roses; 
Hark how it warbles and rings, 

Mark how it closes : 

Luck, luck, 
What luck? 
Good enough for me! 
I'm alive, you see. 
Sun shining. 
No repining; 
Never borrow 
Idle sorrow; 
Drop it! 
Cover it up ! 
Hold your cup! 
Joy will fill it. 
Don't spill it. 
Steady, be ready, 
Good luck! 

Henry Van Dyke. 

From "Music and other Poems;" copyright, 1894, by Charles 
Scribner's Sons. 

O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN! 

O Captain ! my Captain ! our fearful trip is done. 

The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is 

won. 
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, 
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and 
daring. 

But O heart! heart! heart! 

Oh, the bleeding drops of red, 

Where on the deck my Captain lies, 

Fallen cold and dead. 



SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 73 

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; 
Rise up ! — for you the flag is flung — for you the bugle 

trills, 
For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths — for you the 

shores a-crowding, 
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces 
turning; 

Here, Captain ! dear father ! 
This arm beneath your head ! 
It is some dream that on the deck 
You've fallen cold and dead. 

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still. 
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will, 
The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed 

and done. 
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won; 

Exult, O shores! and ring, O bells! 

But I, with mournful tread, 

Walk the deck my Captain lies, 

Fallen cold and dead. 

Walt Whitman. 

By permission of David McKay, publisher. 



FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 
THE SKELETON IN ARMOR 

In Longfellow's own words the poem was suggested "while rid- 
ing on the seashore at Newport. A year or two previous, a skele- 
ton had been dug up at Fall River, clad in broken and corroded 
armor; and the idea occurred to me of connecting it with the 
Round Tower at Newport, generally known hitherto as the Old 
Windmill, though now claimed by the Danes as a work of their 
early ancestors." 

"Speak! speak! thou fearful guest! 
Who, with thy hollow breast 
Still in rude armor drest,. 

Comest to daunt me! 
Wrapt not in Eastern balms, 
But with thy fleshless palms 
Stretched, as if asking alms, 

Why dost thou haunt me?" 

Then, from those cavernous eyes 
Pale flashes seemed to rise. 
As when the Northern skies, 

Gleam in December; 
And, like the water's flow 
Under December's snow. 
Came a dull voice of woe 

From the heart's chamber. 



(( 



I was a Viking ^ old ! 
My deeds, though manifold. 
No Skald ^ in song has told, 

1 Viking. A Norse sea rover. 

2 Skald. A poet or singer. 

74 



^ 



FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 75 

No Saga ^ taught thee ! 
Take heed, that in thy verse 
Thou dost the tale rehearse, 
Else dread a dead man's curse; 

For this I sought thee. 

" Far in the Northern Land, 
By the wild Baltic's strand, 
I, with my childish hand, 

Tamed the gerfalcon;^ 
And, with my skates fast-bound, 
Skimmed the half-frozen sound, 
That the poor whimpering hound 

Trembled to walk on. 

"Oft to his frozen lair 
Tracked I the grisly bear. 
While from my path the hare 

Fled like a shadow; 
Oft through the forest dark 
Followed the were-wolf 's ^ bark, 
Until the soaring lark 

Sang from the meadow. 

"But when I older grew. 
Joining a corsair's ^ crew. 
O'er the dark sea I flew 
With the marauders. 
Wild was the life we led; 
Many the souls that sped, 

1 Saga. A legend or tradition of the Norsemen. 

2 Gerfalcon. A type of falcon larger and more powerful than 
the ordinary bird. 

^ Were-wolf. A fabulous human being who could at will change 
himself into the form of a wolf. 

^ Corsair. A wandering adventurer of the sea. 



76 EIGHTH YEAR 

Many the hearts that bled, 
By our stern orders. 

" Many a wassail-bout ^ 
Wore the long winter out; 
Often our midnight shout 

Set the cocks crowing, 
As we the Berserk's ^ tale 
Measured in cups of ale. 
Draining the oaken pail. 

Filled to o'erflowing. 

"Once as I told in glee 
Tales of the stormy sea. 
Soft eyes did gaze on me. 

Burning, yet tender; 
And as the white stars shine 
On the dark Norway pine. 
On that dark heart of mine 

Fell their soft splendor. 

" I wooed the blue-eyed maid, 
Yielding, yet half afraid. 
And in the forest's shade 

Our vows were plighted. 
Under its loosened vest 
Fluttered her little breast. 
Like birds within their nest 

By the hawk frighted. 

"Bright in her father's hall 
Shields gleamed upon the wall, 

1 Wassail-bout. A drinking bout. 

2 Berserk. Literally, a bear; in Norse folklore, one of a class of 
wild warriors of the heathen age. They were supposed to be able 
to assume animal shapes, particularly that of the bear. 



FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 77 

Loud sang the minstrels all, 

Chanting his glory; 
When of old Hildebrand ^ 
I asked his daughter's hand, 
Mute did the minstrels stand 

To hear my story. 

"While the brown ale he quaffed, 
Loud then the champion laughed, 
And as the wind-gusts waft 

The sea-foam brightly. 
So the loud laugh of scorn. 
Out of those lips unshorn, 
From the deep drinking-horn ^ 

Blew the foam lightly. 

"She was a Prince's child, 

I but a Viking wild. 

And though she blushed and smiled, 

I was discarded! 
Should not the dove so white 
Follow the sea-mew's flight. 
Why did they leave that night 

Her nest unguarded? 

"Scarce had I put to sea. 
Bearing the maid with me. 
Fairest of all was she 

Among the Norsemen! 
When on the white sea-strand, 
Waving his armed hand, 
Saw we old Hildebrand, 

With twenty horsemen. 

^ Hildebrand. A mythical Prince of Norway. 
2 Drinking-horn. Drinking receptacles were often made of the 
horns of cattle. 



78 EIGHTH YEAR 

"Then launched they to the blast, 
Bent like a reed each mast, 
Yet we were gaining fast, 

When the wind failed us; 
And with a sudden flaw 
Came round the gusty Skaw,^ 
So that our foe we saw 

Laugh as he hailed us. 

"And as to catch the gale 
Round veered the flapping sail. 
Death! was the helmsman's hail. 

Death without quarter! 
Mid-ships with iron keel 
Struck we her ribs of steel ; 
Down her black hulk did reel 

Through the black water! 

"As with his wings aslant. 
Sails the fierce cormorant,^ 
Seeking some rocky haunt. 

With his prey laden; 
So toward the open main. 
Beating to sea again, 
Through the wild hurricane, 

Bore I the maiden. 

"Three weeks we westward bore, 
And when the storm was o'er, 
Cloud-like we saw the shore 

Stretching to leeward; 
There for my lady's bower 
Built I the lofty tower, 

* Skaw. A promontory, a headland. 

2 Cormorant. A large sea bird found in the north„ 



FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 79 

"WTiich, to this very hour, 
Stands looking seaward. 



" There Hved we many years ; 
Time dried the maiden's tears; 
She had forgot her fears, 

She was a mother; 
Death closed her mild blue eyes. 
Under that tower ^ she lies; 
Ne'er shall the sun arise 

On such another! 



" Still grew my bosom then. 
Still as a stagnant fen ! ^ 
Hateful to me were men, 

The sunlight hateful! 
In that vast forest here, 
Clad in my warlike gear. 
Fell I upon my spear, 

O, death was grateful ! 



"Thus, seamed with many scars, 
Bursting these prison bars, 
Up to its native stars 

INIy soul ascended! 
There from the flowing bowl 
Deep drinks the warrior's soul, 
Skoal! ^ to the Northland! skoal!'' 

Thus the tale ended. 

Henry Wadsw^orth Longfellow. 



1 Tower. Refers to the Round Tower at Newport. 

2 Fen. A low marshy place. 

3 Skoal! Hail! Salutation or toast by crying "skoal." 



80 EIGHTH YEAR 

TOPICS FOR COMPOSITIONS 

Imaginative description of the Viking. 

Characterization of the Viking. 

Instances to show that the Viking was " wild." 

The boyhood of the Viking. 

Characterization of " the blue-eyed maid." 

Information about ancient Norse life to be found in the poem. 



HORATIUS 

This ballad is based upon the legendary history of Rome as 
recorded by Livy and other Roman historians. The action of the 
story takes place about the year 509 B.C. The rule of Tarquin, 
the King of Rome, became so tyrannical that he was banished 
from the city. The citizens then established a republic governed 
by two men called Consuls who were chosen annually. Tarquin 
attempted to regain the throne and in his efforts was aided by 
Porsena the King of Etruria. In the struggle between the Romans 
and the allied forces Horatius is supposed to have made the cour- 
ageous defence of a bridge over the river Tiber that is here 
described. 

1 

Lars Porsena ^ of Cluslum 

By the Nine Gods ^ he swore, 
That the great house of Tarquin 

Should suffer wrong no more. 

^ Lars Porsena. King or chief of Clusium, a town in Etruria. 
Etruria, corresponding to the modern Tuscany, was the seat of 
the most ancient civilization of Italy. In territory it extended 
along the Mediterranean and was separated from Umbria, the 
Sabine territory, and from Latium by the Tiber. It contained a 
confederation of twelve cities, remains of which are occasionally 
to be found. The Etruscans were powerful in naval affairs. Re- 
mains of their architecture and art still exist. 

2 Nine Gods. Juno, Minerva, Tinia, Vulcan, Mars, Saturn, 
Hercules, Lummanus, Vedius. — Brewer. 

^ Great house of Tarquin. Rome had seven legendary kings, 
of whom the fifth and the seventh were Tarquins, an exceedingly 
tyrannical family. The Tarquins were of Etruscan origin. 



FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 81 

By the Nine Gods he swore it, 

And named a trysting day, 
And bade his messengers ride forth. 
East and west and south and north. 

To summon his array. 

2 

East and west and south and north 

The messengers ride fast, 
And tower and town and cottage 

Have heard the trumpet's blast. 
Shame on the false Etruscan 

Who lingers in his home. 
When Porsena of Clusium 

Is on the march for Rome! 

3 

The horsemen and the footmen 

Are pouring in amain ^ 
From many a stately market place. 

From many a fruitful plain; 
From many a lonely hamlet. 

Which, hid by beach and pine. 
Like an eagle's nest, hangs on the crest 

Of purple Apennine.^ 



From lordlv Volaterrse,^ 

Where scowls the far-famed hold 

Piled by the hands of giants 
For godlike kings of old; 

1 Amain. In great haste. 

2 Apennine. The mountain range that extends through cen- 
tral Italy. 

3 Volaterrse. One of the Etruscan cities. It was built on a hill. 



82 EIGHTH YEAR 

From seagirt Populonia/ 
Whose sentinels descry 

Sardinia's snowy mountain-tops 
Fringing the southern sky; 



From the proud mart of Pisse,^ 

Queen of the western waves, 
Where ride Massiha's ^ triremes 

Heavy with fair-haired slaves; 
From where sweet Clanis ^ wanders 

Through corn and vines and flowers; 
From where Cortona ^ lifts to heaven 

Her diadem of towers. 

6 

Tall are the oaks whose acorns 

Drop in dark Auser's ^ rill; 
Fat are the stags that champ the boughs 

Of the Ciminian^ hill; 
Beyond all streams Clitumnus ^ 

Is to the herdsman dear; 
Best of all pools the fowler loves 

The great Volsinian mere.^ 



But now no stroke of woodman 
Is heard by Auser's rill; 

Populonia, Cortona, Ciminian. Ancient Etruscan cities. 

Pisse. An Etruscan town. 

Massilia. The modern city is called Marseilles. 

Clanis, Auser. Etruscan rivers. 

Clitumnus. A stream flowing into the river Tiber. 

Volsinian mere. Now Lake Bolsena. 



FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 83 

No hunter tracks the stag's green path 

Up the Ciminian hill; 
Unwatched along Clitumnus 

Grazes the milk-white steer; 
Unharmed the waterfowl may dip 

In the Volsinian mere. 

8 

The harvests of Arretium/ 

This year, old men shall reap, 
This year, young boys in Umbro ^ 

Shall plunge the struggling sheep; 
And in the vats of Luna ^ 

This year, the must shall foam 
Round the white feet of laughing girls 

Whose sires have marched to Rome. 

9 

There be thirty chosen prophets, 

The wisest of the land. 
Who alway by Lars Porsena 

Both morn and evening stand: 
Evening and morn the Thirty 

Have turned the verses o'er. 
Traced from the right ^ on linen white 

By mighty seers of yore. 

10 

And with one voice the Thirtv 
Have their glad answer given: 

^ Arretiiim. An Etruscan city. 
2 Umbro. An Etruscan river, now the Ombrone. 
^ Luna. An Etruscan town noted for its wines. 
^ Traced from the right. The Etruscans began at the right and 
wrote toward the left. 



84 EIGHTH YEAR 

"Go forth, go forth, Lars Porsena; 

Go forth, beloved of Heaven: 
Go, and return in glory 

To Clusium's roval dome; 
And hang round Xurscia's ^ altars 

The golden shields of Rome." 

11 

And now hath every, city 

Sent up her tale " of men : 
The foot are fourscore thousand. 

The horse are thousands ten. 
Before the gates of Sutrium ^ 

Is met the great array. 
A proud man was Lars Porsena 

Upon the trysting day. 

12 

For all the Etruscan armies 

Were ranged beneath his eye, 
And many a banished Roman, 

And many a stout ally; 
And with a mighty following 

To join the muster came 
The Tusculan IMamilius,^ 

Prince of the Latian name. 

13 

But by the yellow Tiber 
Was tumult and affright: 

^ Nurscia. A town of the Sabines, one of the Itahan tribes. 
2 Tale. Count or number. Compare with our word tally. 
' Sutrium. An Etruscan town. 

* MamiHus. A son-in-law of Tarquin the Proud (Tarquinius 
Superbus), the last of the Roman kings. 



FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 85 

From all the spacious champaign ^ 
To Rome men took their flight. 

A mile around the city, 

The throng stopped up the ways; 

A fearful sight it was to see 

Through two long nights and days. 

14 

For aged folks on crutches, 

And women great with child, 
And mothers sobbing over babes 

That clung to them and smiled. 
And sick men borne in litters 

High on the necks of slaves. 
And troops of sunburnt husbandmen 

With reaping-hooks and staves, 

15 

And droves of mules and asses 

Laden with skins of wine, 
And endless flocks of goats and sheep, 

And endless herds of kine. 
And endless trains of wagons 

That creaked beneath the weight 
Of corn-sacks and of household goods, 

Choked every roaring gate. 

16 

Now, from the rock Tarpeian,^ 
Could the wan burghers spy 

* Champaign. Country. 

2 The rock Tarpeian. Tarpeia, a Roman governor's daughter, 
tempted by the golden ornaments of the invading Sabines, had 
agreed to open the gate of the fortress for them. When they had 
entered, they cast their shields on her, crushing her to death. From 
this legend the Tarpeian rock, a part of the Capitoline hill, was 
named. 



86 ' EIGHTH YEAR 

The line of blazing villages 

Red in the midnight sky. 
The Fathers of the City, 

They sat all night and day, 
For every hour some horseman came 

With tidings of dismay. 

17 

To eastward and to westward 

Have spread the Tuscan bands; 
Nor house nor fence nor dovecote 

In Crustumerium ^ stands. 
Verbenna ^ down to Ostia ^ 

Hath wasted all the plain ; 
Astur ^ hath stormed Janiculum, ^ 

And the stout guards are slain. 

18 

Iwis,^ in all the Senate, 

There was no heart so bold. 
But sore it ached, and fast it beat. 

When that ill news was told. 
Forthwith up rose the Consul,^ 

Up rose the Fathers all : 
In haste they girded up their gowns 

And hied them to the wall. 

* Crustumerium, Ostia. In ancient geography, cities in the 
vicinity of Rome. 

2 Verbenna. An Etruscan chief. See stanza 23. 

^ Astur. See stanza 42. 

^ Janicuhun. A hill on the right bank of the Tiber, directly 
across the river from the city, wherein the Romans had taken 
refuge. 

^ Iwis. Certainly. 

^ Consul. When the kings of Rome were driven out, the gov- 
ernment was vested in two consuls chosen every year. See intro- 
duction. 



FOR APPRECIATIVE RESIDING 87 

19 

They held a council standing 

Before the River Gate; 
Short time was there, ye well may guess, 

For musing or debate. 
Out spoke the Consul roundly: 

"The bridge^ must straight go down; 
For, since Janiculum is lost. 

Naught else can save the town." 

20 

Just then a scout came flying, 

All wild with haste and fear; 
"To arms! to arms! Sir Consul; 

Lars Porsena is here." 
On the low hills to westward 

The Consul fixed his eye. 
And saw the swarthy storm of dust 

Rise fast along the sky. 

21 

And nearer fast and nearer 

Doth the red whirlwind come, 
And louder still and still more loud, 
From underneath that rolling cloud, • 
Is heard the trumpet's war-note proud, 

The trampling, and the hum. 
And plainly and more plainly 

Now through the gloom appears. 
Far to left and far to right, 
In broken gleams of dark-blue light, 

^ The bridge. This bridge, known as the SubHcian bridge, con- 
nected Janicuhim with the city. The name was derived from the 
Latin sublicae meaning props. 



8S EIGHTH YEAR 

The long array of helmets bright, 
The long array of spears. 

22 

And plainly and more plainly 

Above that glimmering line, 
Now might ye see the banners 

Of twelve fair cities ^ shine; 
But the banner of proud Clusium 

Was highest of them all. 
The terror of the Umbrian, 

The terror of the Gaul. 

23 

And plainly and more plainly 

Now might the burghers know. 
By port and vest,^ by horse and crest, 

Each warlike Lucumo.^ 
There Cilnius ^ of Arretium 

On his fleet roan was seen; 
And Astur ^ of the fourfold shield. 
Girt with the brand none else may wield, 
Tolumnius ^ with the belt of gold, 
And dark Verbenna ^ from the hold ^ 

By reedy Thrasymene.^ 

1 Twelve fair cities. The twelve cities of Etruria. See note, 
stanza 1. 

2 Port and vest. Bearing and dress. Compare with deport- 
ment, vestment or vesture. 

^ Lucumo. A general title given to the Etruscan chiefs. Some 
of the individual chiefs are named below. 

^ Cilnius, Astur, Tolumnius, Verbenna. Etruscan chiefs. 

^ Hold. His fortress. 

^ Thrasymene. An Etruscan lake, now called Perugia. Here, 
some centuries later, the Romans were defeated by the Carthagin- 
ians under Hannibal. Another form of the ancient name was 
Trasimenus. 



FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 89 



24 



Fast by the royal standard, 

O'erlooking all the war, 
Lars Porsena of Clusium 

Sat in his ivory car. 
By the right wheel rode Mamilius, 

Prince of the Latian name; 
And by the left false Sextus,^ 

That wrought the deed of shame. 

25 

But when the face of Sextus 

Was seen among the foes, 
A yell that rent the firmament 

From all the town arose. 
On the house-tops was no woman 

But spat towards him and hissed, 
No child but screamed out curses. 

And shook its little fist. 



26 

But the Consul's brow was sad. 

And the Consul's speech was low. 
And darkly looked he at the wall. 

And darkly at the foe. 
"Their van will be upon us 

Before the bridge goes down; 
And if they once may win the bridge. 

What hope to save the town? 



J) 



1 Sextus. A member of the Tarquin family. His wicked insult 
to Lucretia, the wiie of a kinsman, had led to the banishment of 
the Tarquins from Rome. 



90 EIGHTH YEAR 



27 



Then out spake brave Horatius, 

The Captain of the Gate: 
"To every man upon this earth 

Death cometh soon or late. 
And how can man die better 

Than facing fearful odds, 
For the ashes of his fathers, 

And the temples of his Gods, 



28 



(( 



And for the tender mother 

Who dandled him to rest, 
And for the wife who nurses 

His babv at her breast. 
And for the holv maidens ^ 

Who feed the eternal flame, 
To save them from false vSextus, 

That wrought the deed of shame? 



29 

"Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul, 

With all the speed ye may; 
I, with two more to help me, 

Will hold the foe in play. 
In yon strait path a thousand 

May well be stopped by three. 
Now who will stand on either hand, 

And keep the bridge with me?" 

* The holy maidens. Young women kno\\Ti as Vestal Virgins 
kept the sacred fire of Vesta eternally burning in the temple of 
the Goddess, which stood in the Roman Forum. 



FOK APPRECIATIVE READING 91 



30 



Then out spake Spuriiis Lartius; 

A Ramnian ^ proud was he : 
"Lo, I will stand at thy right hand, 

And keep the bridge with thee/' 
And out spake strong Herminius; 

Of Titian ^ blood was he : 
" I will abide on thy left side, 

And keep the bridge with thee. 



31 



jr 



"Horatius," quoth the Consul, 

"As thou sayest, so let it be." 
And straight against that great array 

Forth went the dauntless Three. 
For Romans in Rome's quarrel 

Spared neither land nor gold, 
Nor son nor wife, nor limb nor life. 

In the brave days of old. 



32 

Then none was for a party; 

Then all were for the State; 
Then the great man helped the poor. 

And the poor man loved the great : 
Then lands were fairly portioned; 

Then spoils were fairly sold: 
The Romans were like brothers 

In the brave days of old. 

1 Ramnian, Titian. The three original tribes of Rome were 
Ramnes, Tities and Luceres. Horatius was a member of the tribe 
of the Luceres. 



92 EIGHTH YEAR 

33 

Now Roman is to Roman 

More hateful than a foe, 
And the Tribunes ^ beard the high, 

And the Fathers ^ grind the low. 
As we wax hot in faction, 

In battle we wax cold : 
Wherefore men fight not as they fought 

In the brave days of old. 

34 

Now while the Three were tightening 

Their harness ^ on their backs. 
The Consul was the foremost man 

To take in hand an axe: 
And Fathers mixed with Commons ^ 

Seized hatchet, bar, and crow. 
And smote upon the planks above. 

And loosed the props below. 



35 

Meanwhile the Tuscan army, 

Right glorious to behold. 
Came flashing back the noonday light. 
Rank behind rank, like surges bright 

Of a broad sea of gold. 
Four hundred trumpets sounded 

A peal of warlike glee. 
As that great host, with measured tread, 

1 Tribunes. Officers representing the common people. 

2 Fathers. The patricians or noble class. 
^ Harness. Armor. 

^ Commons. The common people. 



FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 93 

And spears advanced, and ensigns spread, 
Rolled slowly towards the bridge's head. 
Where stood the dauntless Three. 

36 

The Three stood calm and silent, 

And looked upon the foes, 
And a great shout of laughter 

From all the vanguard rose; 
And forth three chiefs came spurring 

Before that deep array; 
To earth they sprang, their swords they drew. 
And lifted high their shields, and flew 

To win the narrow way; 

37 

Annus ^ from green Tifernum, 

Lord of the Hill of Vines; 
And Seius,^ whose eight hundred slaves 

Sicken in Ilva's mines; ^ 
And Picus,^ long to Clusium 

Vassal in peace and war, 
Who led to fight his Umbrian powers 
From that gray crag where, girt with towers, 
The fortress of Nequinum lowers 

O'er the pale waves of Nar.^ 

38 

Stout Lartius hurled down Annus 

Into the stream beneath: 
Herminius struck at Seius, 

And clove him to the teeth: 

* Aunus Seius, Picus. Etruscan chiefs. 

2 Ilva. The modern name is Elba. This is the island to which 
Napoleon was banished. It is famed for its iron mines. 
^ Nar. A river noted for its white color. 



94 EIGHTH YEAR 

At Picus brave Horatius 

Darted one fiery thrust; 
And the proud Umbrian's gilded arms 

Clashed in the bloody dust. 

39 

Then Oenus ^ of Falerii 

Rushed on the Roman Three; 
And Lausulus ^ of Urgo, 

The rover of the sea; 
And Aruns ^ of Volsinium, 

Who slew the great wild boar, 
The great wild boar that had his den 
Amidst the reeds of Cosa's fen, 
And wasted fields and slaughtered men, 

Along Albinia's shore. 

40 

Herminius smote down Aruns: 

Lartius laid Ocnus low: 
Right to the heart of Lausulus 

Horatius sent a blow. 
"Lie there," he cried, "fell pirate! 

No more, aghast and pale, 
From Ostia's walls the crowd shall mark 
The track of thy destroying bark. 
No more Campania's hinds shall fly 
To woods and caverns when they spy 

Thy thrice accursed sail." 

41 

But now no sound of laughter 
Was heard among the foes. 

1 Ocnus, Lausulus, Aruns. Etruscan chiefs. 



FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 95 

A wild and wrathful clamor 

From all the vanguard rose. 
Six spears' lengths from the entrance 

Halted that deep array, 
And for a space no man came forth 

To win the narrow way. 

42 

But hark! the cry is Astur: 

And lo! the ranks divide; 
And the great Lord of Luna 

Comes with his stately stride. 
Upon his ample shoulders 

Clangs loud the fourfold shield, 
And in his hand he shakes the brand 

Which none but he can wield. 

43 

He smiled on those bold Romans 

A smile serene and high; 
He eyed the flinching Tuscans, 

And scorn was in his eye. 
Quoth he: " The she-wolf's litter ^ 

Stand savagely at bay; 
But will ve dare to follow. 

If Astur clears the way?" 

44 

Then, whirling up his broadsword 
With both hands to the height, 

1 The she-wolf's Utter. This refers to the story that tlie twin 
infants, Romukis and Remus, when deserted and left to die, were 
found and nursed by a she-wolf. Romulus and Remus were the 
fabled founders of Rome. 



96 EIGHTH YEAR 

He rushed against Horatius, 

And smote with all his might. 
With shield and blade Horatius 

Right deftly turned the blow. 
The blow, though turned, came yet too nigh; 
It missed his helm/ but gashed his thigh: 
The Tuscans raised a joyful cry 

To see the red blood flow. 

45 

He reeled, and on Herminius 

He leaned one breathing space; 
Then like a wild cat mad with wounds, 

Sprang right at Astur's face. 
Through teeth, and skull, and helmet, 

So fierce a thrust he sped. 
The good sword stood a handbreadth out 

Behind the Tuscan's head. 

46 

And the great Lord of Luna 

Fell at the deadly stroke. 
As falls on Mount Alvernus 

A thunder-smitten oak. 
Far o'er the crashing forest 

The giant arms lie spread; 
And the pale augurs,- muttering low, 

Gaze on the blasted head. 

47 

On Astur's throat Horatius 
Right firmly pressed his heel, 

1 Helm. Helmet. 

2 Augurs. The priests who foretold the future by means of 
signs. 



FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 97 

And thrice and four times tugged amain, 

Ere he wrenched out the steeL 
"And see," he cried, "the welcome. 

Fair guests, that waits you here! 
WTiat noble Lucumo ^ comes next 

To taste our Roman cheer? 



.0 'J 



48 

But at his haughty challenge 

A sullen murmur ran, 
Mingled of wrath, and shame, and dread. 

Along that glittering van. 
There lacked not men of prowess, 

Nor men of lordly race; 
For all Etruria's noblest 

Were round the fatal place. 

49 

But all Etruria's noblest 

Felt their hearts sink to see 
On the earth the bloody corpses, 

In the path the dauntless Three: 
And, from the ghastly entrance 

^Yhere those bold Romans stood. 
All shrank, like boys who unaware, 
Ranging the woods to start a hare, 
Come to the mouth of the dark lair 
Where, growling low, a fierce old bear 

Lies amidst bones and blood. 

50 

Was none who would be foremost 
To lead such dire attack: 

^ Lucumo. See note, stanza 23. 



98 EIGHTH YEAR 

But those behind cried "Forward!" 
And those before cried "Back!" 

And backward now and forward 
Wavers the deep array; 

And on the tossing sea of steel, 

To and fro the standards reel; 

And the victorious trumpet-peal 
Dies fitfully away. 

51 

Yet one man for one moment 

Stood out before the crowd; 
Well known was he to all the Three, 

And they gave him greeting loud, 
"Now welcome, welcome, Sextus! 

Now welcome to thy home! 
Why dost thou stay, and turn away? 

Here lies the road to Rome." 

52 

Thrice looked he at the city; 

Thrice looked he at the dead; 
And thrice came on in fury. 

And thrice turned back in dread; 
And, white with fear and hatred. 

Scowled at the narrow w^ay 
Where, wallowing in a pool of blood, 

The bravest Tuscans lay. 

53 

But meanwhile axe and lever 
Have manfully been plied; 

And now the bridge hangs tottering 
Above the boiling tide. 



FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 99 

"Come back, come back, Horatius!" 

Loud cried the Fathers all. 
"Back, Lartius! Back, Herminius! 

Back, ere the ruins fall I" 

54 

Back darted Spurius Lartius; 

Herminius darted back: 
And, as they passed, beneath their feet 

They felt the timbers cn^ck. 
But when they turned their faces, 

And on the farther shore 
Saw brave Horatius stand alone. 

They would have crossed once more. 

55 

But with a crash like thunder 

Fell every loosened beam. 
And, like a dam, the mighty wreck 

Lay right athwart the stream; 
And a long shout of triumph 

Rose from the walls of Rome, 
As to the highest turret-tops 

Was splashed the yellow foam. 

56 

And, like a horse unbroken 

When first he feels the rein, 
The furious river struggled hard, 

And tossed his tawny mane. 
And burst the curb, and bounded, 

Rejoicing to be free, 



100 EIGHTH YEAR 

And whirling down, in fierce career, 
Battlement, and plank, and pier, 
Rushed headlong to the sea. 

57 

Alone stood brave Horatius, 

But constant still in mind; 
Thrice thirty thousand foes before, 

And the broad flood behind. 
"Down with him!" cried false Sextus, 

With a smile on his pale face. 
"Now yield thee," cried Lars Porsena, 

"Now yield thee to our grace?" 

58 

Round turned he, as not deigning 

Those craven ranks to see; 
Naught spake he to Lars Porsena, 

To Sextus naught spake he; 
But he saw on Palatinus ^ 

The white porch of his home; 
And he spake to the noble river 

That rolls by the towers of Rome. 

59 

"Oh, Tiber! father Tiber! 

To whom the Romans pray, 
A Roman's life, a Roman's arms. 

Take thou in charge this day!" 
So he spake, and speaking sheathed 

The good sword by his side. 
And with his harness on his back 

Plunged headlong in the tide. 

1 Palatinus. One of the hills on which Rome was built. 



FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 101 



60 

No sound of joy or sorrow 

Was heard on either bank; 
But friends and foes in dumb surprise, 
With parted Hps and straining eyes, 

Stood gazing where he sank: 
And when above the surges 

They saw his crest appear, 
All Rome sent forth a rapturous cry. 
And even the ranks of Tuscany 

Could scarce forbear to cheer. 

61 

But fiercely ran the current, 

Swollen high by months of rain; 
And fast his blood was flowing, 

And he was sore in pain. 
And heavy with his armor. 

And spent with changing blows: 
And oft they thought him sinking. 

But still again he rose. 

62 

Never, I ween,^ did swimmer. 

In such an evil case, 
Struggle through such a raging flood 

Safe to the landing-place: 
But his limbs were borne up bravely 

Bv the brave heart within. 
And our good father Tiber 

Bore bravely up his chin. 

^ Ween. Think, imagine. 



102 ?i:iGHTH YEAR 



63 



"Curse on him!" quoth false Sextus; 

"Will not the villain drown? 
But for this stay, ere close of day 

We should have sacked the town!" 
"Heaven help him!" quoth Lars Porsena, 

"And bring him safe to shore; 
For such a gallant feat of arms 

Was never seen before." 



64 

And now he feels the bottom; 

Now on dry earth he stands; 
Now round him throng the Fathers 

To press his gory hands; 
And now, with shouts and clapping, 

And noise of weeping loud. 
He enters through the River-Gate, 

Borne by the joyous crowd. 



65 

They gave him of the corn-land,^ 

That was of public right, 
As much as two strong oxen 

Could plow from morn till night; 
And they made a molten image, 

And set it up on high. 
And there it stands unto this dav, 

To witness if I lie. 

^ Corn-land. Certain of the lands were held in common by the 
State. From these public lands, a portion was given Horatius as 
an award. 



FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 103 

66 * 

It stands in the Comitium/ 

Plain for all folk to see; 
Horatius in his harness, 

Halting upon one knee: 
And underneath is written, 

In letters all of gold, 
How valiantly he kept the bridge 

In the brave days of old. 

67 

And still his name sounds stirring 

Unto the men of Rome, 
As the trumpet blast that cries to them 

To charge the Volscian home; 
And wives still pray to Juno ^ 

For boys with hearts as bold 
As his who kept the bridge so well 

In the brave days of old. 

68 

And in the nights of winter, 

When the cold north-winds blow, 
And the long howling of the wolves 

Is heard amidst the snow; 
^^^len round the lonely cottage 

Roars loud the tempest's din. 
And the good logs of Algidus ^ 

Roar louder vet within; 

1 Comitium. A meeting place for those who made the laws. 
It was a part of the Forum. 

2 Juno. The principal Goddess in Roman mythology, the wife 
of Jupiter, the King of the Gods. She was regarded as the special 
protector of marriage and as the guardian of women. 

2 Algidus. A hill near Rome from which fire wood was obtained. 



104 EIGHTH YEAR 

69 

\^nien the oldest cask is opened, 

And the largest lamp is lit; 
When the chestnuts glow in the embers, 

And the kid turns on the spit; 
When young and old in circle 

Around the firebrands close; 
When the girls are weaving baskets, 

And the lads are shaping bows; 

70 

When the goodman mends his armor. 

And trims his helmet's plume; 
When the goodwife's shuttle merrily 

Goes flashing through the loom. 
With weeping and with laughter 

Still is the storv told, 
How well Horatius kept the bridge 

In the brave davs of old. 

Thomas Babington Macaulay. 

TOPICS FOR COMPOSITIONS. 

An account of the fight on the bridge. 

Description of such pictures as are given in stanzas 20-24, 35- 

36, 46, 56, 60-61, 68-70. 

Description of imaginative pictures, such as that suggested by 

the lines, 

" He reeled, and on Herminius 
He leaned one breathing space." 

Description of the personal appearance of Horatius, Astur, etc. 

Traits of character shown by Horatius. 

Characterization of Sextus and of Lars Porsena. (See stanza 

63.) 

Roman home life. (See stanzas 68, 70.) 



FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 105 



RHCECUS 

This poem is founded upon a beautiful Greek myth. The youth, 
Rhcecus, while passing through the forest, noticed an oak just ready 
to fall. He stopped to save the tree, and was rewarded by a glimpse 
of the wood nymph inhabiting it. She told him that he had saved 
her life as well as that of the tree, and gratefully bade him ask what 
reward he desired. Rhoecus boldly sought her love, which she 
granted and told him to meet her an ho ir before sunset. She 
wanted him to be constant, and told him that a bee would be her 
messenger. 

But Rhoecus, later in the day, met some friends, and in the ex- 
citement of a game of chance with them forgot his promise to the 
n3'mph. When the bee came, he at first angrily brushed it away, 
but at last, realizing that this was the messenger from the wood 
nymph, he hurried to the place of meeting. Here he was too late; 
the nymph was invisible. He heard only her voice chiding him for 
his lack of constancy and telling him of the great love he had loct. 

According to the older tradition the nymph deprived Rhcecus of 
his physical sight, but Lowell gives us a different version in this 
poem. 

God sends his teachers unto every age, 
To every chme, and every race of men, 
With revelations fitted to their growth 
And shape of mind, nor gives the realm of Truth 
Into the selfish rule of one sole race: 
Therefore each form of worship that hath swayed 
The life of man, and given it to grasp 
The master-key of knowledge, reverence, 
Infolds some germs of goodness and of right; 
Else never had the eager soul, which loathes 
The slothful down of pampered ignorance, 
Found in it even a moment's fitful rest. 



There is an instinct in the human heart 
Which makes that all the fables it hath coined. 
To justify the reign of its belief 
And strengthen it by beauty's right divine, 



106 EIGHTH YEAR 

Veil in their inner cells a mystic gift, 

Which, like the hazel twig, in faithful hands. 

Points surely to the hidden springs of truth. 

For, as in nature naught is made in vain. 

But all things have within their hull of use 

A wisdom and a meaning which may speak 

Of spiritual secrets to the ear 

Of spirit; so, in whatsoe'er the heart 

Hath fashioned for a solace to itself. 

To make its inspirations suit its creed, 

And from the niggard ^ hands of falsehood wring 

Its needful food of truth, there ever is 

A sympathy with Nature, which reveals, 

Not less than her own works, pure gleams of light 

And earnest parables of inward lore. 

Hear now this fairy legend of old Greece, 

As full of gracious youth and beauty still 

As the immortal freshness of that grace 

Carved for all ages on some Attic frieze.^ 

A youth named Rhoecus, wandering in the wood, 
Saw an old oak just trembling to its fall. 
And, feeling pity of so fair a tree, 
He propped its gray trunk with admiring care. 
And with a thoughtless footstep loitered on. 
But, as he turned, he heard a voice behind 
That murmured "Rhoecus!" 'Twas as if the leaves. 
Stirred by a passing breath, had murmured it, 
And, while he paused bewildered, yet again 
It murmured "Rhoecus!" softer than a breeze. 
He started and beheld with dizzy eyes 
What seemed the substance of a happy dream 

1 Niggard. Miserly, stingy. 

2 Frieze. A sculptured or richly ornamental band or strip in the 
wall of a building. 



FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 107 

Stand there before him, spreading a warm glow 
Within the green glooms of the shadowy oak. 
It seemed a woman's shape, yet far too fair 
To be a woman, and with eyes too meek 
For any that were wont to mate with gods. 
All naked like a goddess stood she there, 
And like a goddess all too beautiful 
To feel the guilt-born earthliness of shame. 
"Rhoecus, I am the Dryad ^ of this tree," 
Thus she began, dropping her low-toned words 
Serene, and full, and clear, as drops of dew, 
"And with it I am doomed to live and die; 
The rain and sunshine are my caterers, 
Nor have I other bliss than simple life; 
Now ask me what thou wilt, that I can give, 
And with a thankful joy it shall be thine." 

Then Rhoecus, with a flutter at the heart, 
Yet, by the prompting of such beauty, bold, 
Answered: "What is there that can satisfy 
The endless craving of the soul but love? 
Give me thy love, or but the hope of that 
Which must be- evermore my nature's goal." 
After a little pause she said again. 
But with a glimpse of sadness in her tone, 
"I give it, Rhoecus, though a perilous gift; 
An hour before the sunset meet me here." 
And straightway there was nothing he could see 
But the green glooms beneath the shadowy oak, 
And not a sound came to his straining ears 
But the low trickling rustle of the leaves, 
And far away upon an emerald slope 
The falter of an idle shepherd's pipe. 

1 Dryad. Literally, a tree inhabitant. A wood nymph. 



108 EIGHTH YEAR. 

Now, in those days of simpleness and faith, 
Men did not think that happy things were dreams 
Because they overstepped the narrow bourn 
Of hkehhood, but reverently deemed 
Nothing too wondrous or too beautiful 
To be the guerdon ^ of a daring heart. 
So Rhoecus made no doubt that he was blest, 
And all along unto the city's gate 
Earth seemed to spring beneath him as he walked, 
The clear, broad sky looked bluer than its wont, 
And he could scarce believe he had not wings, 
Such sunshine seemed to glitter through his veins 
Instead of blood, so light he felt and strange. 



Young Rhoecus had a faithful heart enough, 
But one that in the present dwelt too much. 
And, taking with blithe welcome whatsoe'er 
Chance gave of joy, was wholly bound in that, 
Like the contented peasant of a vale, 
Deemed it the world, and never looked beyond. 
So, haply meeting in the afternoon 
Some comrades who were playing at the dice, 
He joined them, and forgot all else beside. 



The dice were rattling at the merriest, 
And Rhoecus, who had met but sorry luck. 
Just laughed in triumph at a happy throw. 
When through the room there hummed a yellow bee 
That buzzed about his ear with down-dropped legs 
As if to light. And Rhoecus laughed and said, 
Feeling how red and flushed he was with loss, 

^ Guerdon. A reward. 



FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 109 

"By Venus! ^ does he take me for a rose?" 

Aiid brushed him off with rough, impatient hand. 

But still the bee came back, and thrice again 

Rhoecus did beat him off with growing wrath. 

Then through the window flew the wounded bee, 

And Rhoecus, tracking him with angry eyes, 

Saw a sharp mountain-peak of Thessaly ^ 

Against the red disk of the setting sun, — 

And instantly the blood sank from his heart, 

As if its very walls had caved away. 

Without a word he turned, and, rushing forth. 

Ran madly through the city and the gate. 

And o'er the plain, which now the wood's long shade, 

By the low sun thrown forward broad and dim, 

Darkened wellnigh unto the city's wall. 

Quite spent and out of breath he reached the tree. 
And, listening fearfully, he heard once more 
The low voice murmur "Rhoecus!" close at hand: 
Whereat he looked around him, but could see 
Naught but the deepening glooms beneath the oak. 
Then sighed the voice, "O Rhoecus! nevermore 
Shalt thou behold me or by day or night. 
Me, who would fain have blessed thee with a love 
More ripe and bounteous than ever yet 
Filled up mth nectar ^ any mortal heart : 
But thou didst scorn my humble messenger. 
And sent'st him back to me with bruised wings. 
We spirits only show to gentle eyes, 
We ever ask an undivided love. 
And he who scorns the least of Nature's works 

^ Venus. The goddess of beauty. 

2 Thessaly. In ancient times the northeastern division of 
Greece. 

■^ Nectar. The drink of the gods. 



110 EIGHTH YEAR 

Is thenceforth exiled and shut out from all. 
Farewell! for thou canst never see me more." 

Then Rhoecus beat his breast, and groaned aloud, 
And cried, " Be pitiful ! forgive me yet 
This once, and I shall never need it more!" 
"Alas!" the voice returned, "'tis thou art blind, 
Not I unmerciful; I can forgive. 
But have no skill to heal thy spirit's eyes; 
Only the soul hath power o'er itself." 
With that again there murmured "Nevermore!" 
And Rhoecus after heard no other sound. 
Except the rattling of the oak's crisp leaves, 
Like the long surf upon a distant shore. 
Raking the sea-worn pebbles up and down. 
The night had gathered round him : o'er the plain 
The city sparkled with its thousand lights, 
And sounds of revel fell upon his ear 
Harshly and like a curse; above, the sky. 
With all its bright sublimity of stars. 
Deepened, and on his forehead smote the breeze: 
Beauty was all around him and delight. 
But from that eve he was alone on earth. 

James Russell Lowell. 



TOPICS FOR COMPOSITIONS 

Discussion of the value of the introduction, as comprised in 
the first two stanzas. 

Imaginative description of the place where the dryad lived. 
Characterization of Rhoecus. 
Discussion of the lesson of the story: 

" Only the soul hath power o'er itself." 



FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 111 



UNDER THE OLD ELM 

At Cambridge there stands an old elm, at whose base is fixed a 
stone bearing the following inscription: "Under this tree Wash- 
ington first took command of the American Army, July 3rd, 1775." 

On July 3rd, 1875, one hundred years later, the people of Cam- 
bridge held a celebration under this famous tree. For this occa- 
sion Lowell wrote the poem "Under the Old Elm" from which the 
section on Washington is here given. 

Soldier and statesman, rarest unison; 
High-poised ^ example of great duties done 
Simply as breathing, a world's honors worn 
As life's indifferent gifts to all men born; 
Dumb for himself, unless it were to God, 
But for his barefoot soldiers eloquent. 
Tramping the snow to coral ^ where they trod, 
Held by his awe in hollow-eyed content; 
Modest, yet firm as Nature's self; unblamed 
Save by the men his nobler temper shamed; 
Never seduced ^ through show of present good 
By other than unsetting lights to steer 
New-trimmed in Heaven, nor than his steadfast mood 
More steadfast, far from rashness as from fear; 
Rigid, but with himself first, grasping still 
In swerveless poise the wave-beat helm of will : 
Not honored then or now because he wooed 
The popular voice, but that he still withstood; 
Broad-minded, higher-souled, there is but one 
Who was all this and ours, and all men's, — Washington. 

James Russell Lowell. 

TOPIC FOR COMPOSITION 
Events in history that bear out this estimate of Washington. 

^ High-poised. Dignified and calm. 

2 Tramping the snow to coral. Many of the soldiers left foot- 
prints marked with blood wherever they trod. 
^ Seduced. Led astray. 



112 EIGHTH YEAR 



UNDER THE WILLOWS 

The Willows was a group of trees near Lowell's home at Elm- 
wood. The poet loved these trees and the birds that made their 
nests in the branches. Many beautiful thoughts came to him as 
he watched, and finally he wove them into a poem on spring and 
named it "Under the Willows." This poem opens with the following 
stanzas : 

Frank-hearted hostess of the field and wood, 

Gypsy, whose roof is every spreading tree, 

June is the pearl of our New England year. 

Still a surprisal, though expected long, 

Her coming startles. Long she lies in wait. 

Makes many a feint, peeps forth, draws coyly back, 

Then, from some southern ambush in the sky, 

With one great gush of blossom storms the world. 

A week ago the sparrow was divine; 

The bluebird, shifting his light load of song 

From post to post along the cheerless fence, 

W^as as a rhymer ere the poet come; 

But now, oh rapture! sunshine winged and voiced. 

Pipe blown through by the warm wild breath of the 

West 
Shepherding his soft droves of fleecy cloud. 
Gladness of woods, skies, waters, all in one. 
The bobolink has come, and, like the soul 
Of the sweet season vocal in a bird. 
Gurgles in ecstasy w^e know not what 
Save June! Dear June! Now God be praised for June. 

May is a pious fraud of the almanac, 

A ghastly parody of real Spring 

Shaped out of snow and breathed with eastern windi 

Or if, o'er-confident, she trust the date. 

And, with her handful of anemones, 

Herself as shivery, steal into the sun. 



FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 113 

The season need but turn his hour-glass round, 
And winter suddenly, like crazy Lear,^ 
Reels back, and brings the dead May in his arms, 
Her budding breasts and wan dislustred front 
With frosty streaks and drifts of his white beard 
All overblown. Then, warmly walled with books, 
While my wood-fire supplies the sun's defect. 
Whispering old forest-sagas ^ in its dreams, 
I take my May down from the happy shelf 
Where perch the world's rare song-birds in a row. 
Waiting my choice to open with full breast. 
And beg an alms of spring-time, ne'er denied 
In-doors by vernal Chaucer,^ whose fresh woods 
Throb thick with merle ^ and mavis ^ all the year. 



July breathes hot, sallows the crispy fields. 
Curls up the wan leaves of the lilac-hedge. 
And every eve cheats us with show of clouds 
That braze ^ the horizon's western rim, or hang 
Motionless, with heaped canvas drooping idly, 
Like a dim fleet by starving men besieged. 
Conjectured half, and half descried afar, 
Helpless of wind, and seeming to slip back, 
Adown the smooth curve of the oily sea. 

1 Crazy Lear. The hero of Shakespeare's tragedy " King Lear; " 
in the last act of the play the mad king enters with his dead 
daughter in his arms. 

2 Forest-sagas. Legends or myths of the woods. 

' Vernal Chaucer. Chaucer was fond of nature. The Pro- 
logue to his "Canterbury Tales" opens with a description of 
spring. 

Cf. Thomas Warton's estimate of Chaucer: "I consider Chau- 
cer as a genial day in an English spring." 

4 Merle. Blackbird. 

* Mavis. Song thrush. 

^ Braze. The clouds seem to braze or color like bronze the 
western sky. 



114 EIGHTH YEAR 

But June is full of invitations sweet, 

Forth from the chimney's yawn and thrice-read 

tomes 
To leisurely delights and sauntering thoughts 
That brook no ceiling narrower than the blue. 
The cherry, drest for bridal, at my pane 
Brushes, then listens. Will he come? The bee, 
All dusty as a miller, takes his toll 
Of powdery gold, and grumbles. What a day 
To sun me and do nothing! Nay, I think 
Merely to bask and ripen is sometimes 
The student's wiser business; the brain 
That forages all climes to line its cells. 
Ranging both worlds on lightest wings of wish, 
Will not distil the juices it has sucked 
To the sweet substance of pellucid ^ thought, 
Except for him who hath the secret learned 
To mix his blood with sunshine, and to take 
The winds into his pulses. Hush! 'tis he! 
My oriole, my glance of summer fire,^ 
Is come at last, and, ever on the watch. 
Twitches the pack-thread I had lightly wound 
About the bough to help his housekeeping, — 
Twitches and scouts by turns, blessing his luck, 
Yet fearing me who laid it in his way, 
Nor, more than wiser we in our affairs. 
Divines the providence that hides and helps. 
Ream, ho! Heave, oh! he whistles as the twine 
Slackens its hold; once more, now! and a flash 
Lightens across the sunlight to the elm 
Where his mate dangles at her cup of felt.^ 

1 Pellucid. Clear. 

2 My glance of summer fire. Refers to the flame-colored breast 
of the oriole. 

3 Cup of felt. The oriole builds a hanging nest of a gray, felt- 
like substance. 



FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 115 

Nor all his bootv is the thread ; he trails 
My loosened thought with it along the air, 
And I must follow, would I ever find 
The inward rhvnae to all this wealth of life. 

James Russell Lowell. 

TOPIC FOR COMPOSITION 

A comparison of Lowell's description of May, June and July 
with other descriptions of spring or summer. 



INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP 

This is a true story of bravery and courage. The real hero, 
however, was a man instead of a boy. The storming of Ratisbon 
occurred in May, 1809, during Napoleon's campaign against Austria. 

You know, we French stormed Ratisbon : ^ 

A mile or so away. 
On a little mound. Napoleon 

Stood on our storming day; 
With neck out-thrust, you fancy how, 

Legs wide, arms locked behind. 
As if to balance the prone brow 

Oppressive with its mind.^ 

Just as perhaps he mused, "My plans 

That soar, to earth may fall. 
Let once my army-leader Lannes ^ 

Waver at yonder wall," — 
Out 'twixt the battery smokes there flew 

A rider, bound on bound 

^ Ratisbon. A town sixty-five miles north of Munich on the 
river Danube. 

2 This description of Napoleon is said to bear resemblance to 
Haydon's portrait of Napoleon. 

3 Lannes. One of Napoleon's most capable commanders. 



116 EIGHTH YEAR 

Full galloping; nor* bridle drew 
Until he reached the mound. 

Then off there flung in smiling joy, 

And held himself erect 
By just his horse's mane, a boy: 

You hardly could suspect — 
(So tight he kept his lips compressed. 

Scarce any blood came through) 
You looked twice ere you saw his breast 

Was all but shot in tAvo. 

"Well," cried he, "Emperor, by God's grace 

We've got you Ratisbon! 
The Marshal's ^ in the market-place, 

And you'll be there anon 
To see your flag-bird flap his vans ^ 

Where I, to heart's desire. 
Perched him!" The chief's eye flashed; his plans 

Soared up again like fire. 

The chief's eye flashed; but presently 

Softened itself, as sheathes • 
A film the mother-eagle's eye ^ 

When her bruised eaglet breathes; 
"You're wounded!" "Nay," the soldier's pride. 

Touched to the quick, he said: 
"I'm killed, Sire!" And his chief beside. 

Smiling, the boy fell dead. 

Robert Browning. 

1 Marshal. General officer of highest rank. 

2 Vans. Wings. The standard of Napoleon was an eagle. 

3 The mother-eagle's eye. A fitting comparison. See note 
above. The name given to Rostand's play about Napoleon's son 
is VAiglon (The Eaglet). 



FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 117 

TOPICS FOR COMPOSITIONS 

Description of the opening scene. (See stanzas 1-2.) 
Description of the boy as he stood by his horse. 
Description of Napoleon. 

APOSTROPHE TO THE OCEAN 

* 

These stanzas are the closing lines of Canto IV, "Childe Harold's 
Pilgrimage." In this poem B^Ton has described his wanderings 
over Europe. In Canto IV the poet describes Italy, taking his 
reader at last to the top of the Alban Hills for a view of the ocean. 
Then he ends the poem with '"The Apostrophe to the Ocean." 

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods; 
There is a rapture on the lonely shore; 
There is society where none intrudes, 
By the deep sea, and music in its roar: 
I love not man the less, but nature more. 
From these our interviews, in which I steal 
From all I may be, or have been before. 
To mingle with the universe, and feel 
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal. 

Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll! 
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain; 
Man marks the earth with ruin; his control 
Stops with the shore; upon the watery plain 
The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain 
A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, 
Where, for a moment, like a drop of rain. 
He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, 
Without a grave, unknelled, uncofRned, and unknown. 

His steps are not upon thy paths; thy fields 

Are not a spoil for him; thou dost arise 

And shake him from thee; the vile strength he wields 

For earth's destruction thou dost all despise. 



118 EIGHTH YEAR 

Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies, 
And send'st him, shivering in thy playful spray, 
And howling, to his gods, where haply ^ lies 
His petty hope in some near port or bay. 
And dashest him again to earth; there let him lay. 

The arm^aments which thunderstrike the walls 
Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake, 
And monarchs tremble in their capitals. 
The oak leviathans,^ whose huge ribs make 
Their clay creator the vain title take 
Of lord of thee, and arbiter ^ of war, — 
These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake. 
They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar 
Alike the Armada's ^ pride or spoils of Trafalgar.^ 

Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee: 
Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they? 
Thy waters washed them power while they were free 
And many a tyrant since; their shores obey 
The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay 
Has dried up realms to deserts: not so thou. 
Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play; 
Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow; 
Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now. 

Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form 
Glasses itself in tempests; in all time, 

^ Haply. By chance or accident. 

2 Leviathans. Huge marine animals or monsters. Refers here 
to great ships. 

^ Arbiter. One whose power of governing is not limited. 

* Armada. The famous Spanish fleet defeated by the English 
in 1588. 

6 Trafalgar. The famous battle fought off Cape Trafalgar, on 
the southern coast of Spain, between the English fleet under Lord 
Nelson and the Spanish and French fleets. 



FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 119 

Calm or convulsed; in breeze or gale or storm, 
Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime 
Dark-heaving, boundless, endless, and sublime, — 
The image of Eternity, the throne 
Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime 
The monsters of the deep are made; each zone 
Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone. 

And I have loved thee, Ocean ! and my joy 
Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be 
Borne, like thy bubbles, onward: from a boy 
I wantoned ^ with thv breakers — thev to me 
Were a delight; and if the freshening sea 
]\Iade them a terror — 'twas a pleasing fear, 
For I was as it were a child of thee. 
And trusted to thv billows far and near. 
And laid my hand upon thy mane,^ — as I do here. 

Lord Byron. 

TOPICS FOR COMPOSITIONS 

The impressions of the author given in the first stanza. 
Description of the ocean. (Material to be gained from expe- 
rience, from pictures or from imagination.) 



TO A SKYLARK 

Shelley is surpassed by none in his appreciation of beauty in 
all its forms and in his ability to convey beautiful sentiments in 
delicate language. This poem is a record of his thoughts as he 
watched the flight of a European skylark, a bird unkno^Ti here. 
The bird begins to sing as it leaves the earth for a flight into the 
air. So high does it soar and so sweet and clear is its song that it is 

^ Wanton. To frolic or play without restraint. 
2 Mane. Byron is comparing the curling foam on the waves 
to the mane of a horse. 



120 EIGHTH YEAR 

no wonder that Shelley called it a "blithe spirit." The wonderful 
melody, the "rippling rhythm," of the poem expresses to a re- 
markable degree the music of the skylark's song and the fairy 
lightness of the bird itself. 

Hail to thee, blithe spirit! 

Bird thou never wert, 
That from heaven, or near it, 

Pourest thy full heart 
In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. 

Higher still and higher 

From the earth thou springest 

Like a cloud of fire; 

The blue deep thou wingest, 
And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest. 

In the golden lightning 

Of the sunken sun, 
O'er which clouds are brightening, 
Thou dost float and run; 
Like an embodied joy whose race is just begun. 

The pale purple even 

Melts around thy flight; 
Like a star of heaven 

In the broad daylight. 
Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight. 

Keen as are the arrows 

Of that silver sphere. 
Whose intense lamp narrows 

In the white dawn clear. 
Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there. 

All the earth and air 
With thy voice is loud; 



FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 121 

As, when night is bare 
From one lonely cloud 
The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is overflowed. 

What thou art we know not; 

What is most like thee? 
From rainbow clouds there flow not 

Drops so bright to see. 
As from thy presence rains a shower of melody — 

Like a poet hidden 

In the light of thought, 
Singing hymns unbidden, 
Till the world is wrought 
To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not : 

Like a high-born maiden 

In a palace tower, 
Soothing her love-laden 

Soul in secret hour 
With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower: 

Like a glow^'orm golden 

In a dell of dew. 
Scattering unbeholden ^ 
Its aerial hue 
Among the flowers and grass, which screen it from the 
view : 

Like a rose embowered 

In its own green leaves. 
By warm winds deflowered, 
Till the scent it gives 
JNIakes faint with too much sweet these heavy-winged 
thieves. 

1 Unbeholden. Without being seen. 



122 EIGHTH YEAR 

Sound of vernal ^ showers 

On the twinkUng grass. 
Rain-awakened flowers, 

All that ever was 
Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass. 

Teach us, sprite or bird, 

What sweet thoughts are thine: 
I have never heard 
Praise of love or wine 
That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine. 

Chorus hymeneal,^ 

Or triumphal chaunt, 
Matched with thine would be all 

But an empty vaunt — 
A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want. 

What objects are the fountains 

Of thy happy strain? 
What fields, or waves, or mountains? 

What shapes of sky or plain? 
What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain? 

With thy clear keen joyance ^ 

Languor cannot be: 
Shadow of annoyance 

Never came near thee: 
Thou lovest; but ne'er knew love's sad satiety. 

Waking or asleep. 

Thou of death must deem 

1 Vernal. Spring. 

2 Chorus hymeneal. Marriage song. 
^ Joyance. Joy or gaiety. 



FOR APPRECIATIVE RE.U)ING 123 

Things more true and deep 
Than we mortals dream, 
Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream? 

We look before and after, 

And pine for what is not: 
Our sincerest laughter 

With some pain is fraught: 
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought. 

Yet if we could scorn 

Hate, and pride, and fear; 
If we were things born 

Not to shed a tear, 
I know not how thy joy we ever should come near. 

Better than all measures 

Of delightful sound, 
Better than all treasures 

That in books are found. 
Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground! 

Teach me half the gladness 

That thv brain must know, 
Such harmonious madness • 
From my lips would flow, 
The world should listen then, as I am listening now. 

Percy Bysshe Shelley. 



TOPICS FOR COMPOSITIONS 

The things Shelley thought most like the skylark. (See stanzas 

2-12.) 

The evidence in the poem to show that Shelley was often sad, 
(See stanzas 16-21.) 



124 EIGHTH YEAR 

Other bits of poetry that are especially musical. 
A comparison of the music of " The Skylark " with the solemn, 
majestic roll of the " Apostrophe to the Ocean." 

THE SINGING LEAVES 

A BALLAD 
I 

"WfiAT fairings ^ will ye that I bring?" 
Said the King to his daughters three; 

" For I to Vanity Fair ^ am boun, 
Now say what shall they be?" 

Then up and spake the eldest daughter, 

That lady tall and grand : 
" Oh, bring me pearls and diamonds great, 

And gold rings for my hand." 

Thereafter spake the second daughter. 

That was both white and red: 
" For me bring silks that will stand alone, 

And a gold comb for my head." 

Then came the turn of the least daughter, 
That was whiter than thistle-down, 

And among the gold of her blithesome hair 
Dim shone the golden crown. 

"There came a bird this morning, 

And sang 'neath my bower eaves, 
Till I dreamed, as his music made me, 

^Ask thou for the Singing Leaves.'" 

^ Fairings. Presents. 

2 Vanity Fair. A fair that was held in the town of Vanity in 
Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress." See Psalm Ixii: 9. 



FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 125 

Then the brow of the King swelled crimson 

With a flush of angry scorn: 
"Well have ye spoken, my two eldest, 

And chosen as ye were born; 

"But she, like a thing of peasant race, 
That is happy binding the sheaves;" 

Then he saw her dead mother in her face, 
And said, "Thou shalt have thy leaves." 

II 

He mounted and rode three days and nights 

Till he came to Vanity Fair, 
And 'twas easy to buy the gems and the silk. 

But no Singing Leaves were there. 

Then deep in the greenwood rode he, 

And asked of every tree, 
" Oh, if you have ever a Singing Leaf, 

I pray you give it me!" 

But the trees all kept their counsel, 

And never a word said they, 
Only there sighed from the pine-tops 

A music of seas far away. 

Only the pattering aspen 

Made a sound of growing rain. 
That fell ever faster and faster. 

Then faltered to silence again. 

"Oh, where shall I find a little foot-page 
That w^ould win both hose and shoon,^ 

1 Shoon. Shoes. 



126 EIGHTH YEAR 

And will bring to me the Singing Leaves 
If they grow under the moon?" 

Then lightly turned him Walter the page, 

By the stirrup as he ran: 
"Now pledge you me the truesome word 

Of a king and gentleman, 



"That you will give me the first, first thing 

You meet at your castle-gate, 
And the Princess shall get the Singing Leaves, 

Or mine be a traitor's fate." 

The King's head dropt upon his breast 

A moment, as it might be; 
'Twill be my dog, he thought, and said, 

"My faith I plight to thee." 

Then Walter took from next his heart 

A- packet small and thin, 
"Now give you this to the Princess Anne, 

The Singing Leaves are therein." 

Ill 

As the King rode in at his castle-gate, 

A maiden to meet him ran. 
And "Welcome, father!" she laughed and cried 

Together, the Princess Anne. 

"Lo, here the Singing Leaves," quoth he, 
"And woe, but thev cost me dear!" 

She took the packet, and the smile 
Deepened down beneath the tear. 



FOR APPRECIATIVE READING 127 

It deepened down till it reached her heart, 

And then gushed up again, 
And lighted her tears as the sudden sun 

Transfigures the summer rain. 

And the first Leaf, when it was opened. 

Sang: "I am Walter the page. 
And the songs I sing 'neath thy window 

Are my only heritage." 

And the second Leaf sang: "But in the land 

That is neither on earth nor sea, 
Mv lute and 1 are lords of niore 

Than thrice this kingdom's fee." ^ 

And the third Leaf sang, "Be mine I Be mine!' 

And ever it sang, "Be mine!" 
Then sweeter it sang and ever sweeter. 

And said, "I am thine, thine, thine!" 

At the first Leaf she grew pale enough, 

At the second she turned aside. 
At the third, 'twas as if a lily flushed 

With a rose's red heart's tide. 

"Good counsel gave the bird," said she, 

"I have my hope thrice o'er. 
For they sing to my very heart," she said, 

"And it sings to them evermore." 

She brought to him her beauty and truth, 
But and ^ broad earldoms three, 

1 Kingdom's fee. The value of the Kmgdom. 

2 But and. But also. 



128 EIGHTH YEAR 

And he made her queen of the broader lands 
He held of his lute in fee. 

James Russell Lowell. 



TOPICS FOR COMPOSITIONS 

Imaginative descriptions of the three daughters. 
Characterization of the youngest daughter. 
Discussion of what is meant by 

" the broader lands 
He held of his lute in fee." 



MEMORY GEMS 

The secret of success is constancy to purpose. 

Disraeli. 

A THING of beauty is a joy forever; 
Its loveliness increases. It will never 
Pass into nothingness. 

Keats. 

Let us have faith that right makes might and in that 
faith let us dare to do our duty as we understand it. '^ 

Lincoln. 

One on God's side is a majority. 

Phillips. 

Truly there is a tide in the affairs of men; but there is 
no gulf stream setting forever in one direction. 

Lowell. 

We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths; 

In feelings, not in figures on the dial. 

We should count time by heart throbs. 3 

He most lives 

\\Tio thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best. 

Bailey. 

A LIFE spent worthily should be measured by a nobler 
line — by deeds, not years. 

Sheridan. 
129 



130 EIGHTH YEAR 

It matters not how a man dies, but how he Uves. "' 

Johnson. 

Books, Hke proverbs, receive their chief value from 
the stamp and esteem of ages through which they have 
passed. 

Temple. 

Moderation is the silken string running through the 
pearl chain of all virtues. ^ 

Bishop Hall. 

Re.ading maketh a full man, conference a ready man 
and writing an exact man. ^ 

Bacon. 

This above all : to thine own self be true, 
And it must follow, as the night the day, ^ 
Thou canst not then be false to any man. 

Shakespeare. 

Be just, and fear not; let all the ends thou aimest at, 
be thy country's, thy God's and truth's. 

Shakespeare. 

Good name in man and woman, dear my lord. 

Is the immediate jewel of their souls: 

Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something; nothing; 

'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands; 

But he that filches from me my good name 

Robs me of that which not enriches him 

And makes me poor indeed. 

Shakespeare. 

The end and aim of education is development of char- 
acter. 

Parker. 



MEMORY GEMS 131 

Truth crushed to earth shall rise again: 
The eternal years of God are hers; 
But error, wounded, writhes with pain, 
And dies among his worshippers. 

Bryant. 

So live, that when thy summons comes to join 
The innumerable caravan which moves 
To that mvsterious realm where each shall take 
His chamber in the silent halls of death, 
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, 
Scourged to his dungeon, but sustained and soothed 
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave 
Like one that wraps the drapery of his couch 
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams. 

Bryant. 



HISTORY POEMS FOR COLLATERAL READING 

OLD IRONSIDES 

Ay, tear her tattered ensign down ! 

Long has it waved on high, 
And many an eye has danced to see 

That banner in the sky; 
Beneath it rung the battle shout, 

And burst the cannon's roar; — 
The meteor of the ocean air 

Shall sweep the clouds no more. 

» 

Her deck, once red with heroes' blood, 
Where knelt the vanquished foe, 

When winds were hurrying o'er the flood, 
. And waves were white below, 

No more shall feel the victor's tread, 
Or know the conquered knee; — 

The harpies of the shore shall pluck 
The eagle of the sea! 

Oh, better that her shattered hulk 

Should sink beneath the wave; 
Her thunders shook the mighty deep, 

And there should be her grave; 
Nail to the mast her holy flag, 

Set every threadbare sail, 
And give her to the god of storms. 

The lightning and the gale! 

Oliver Wendell Holmes. 

Francis Scott Key's "Star-Spangled Banner'^ is also included 
among the History Poems for Collateral Reading in the Eighth Year. 
See Selections for Memorizing, Seventh Year, page 5. 

132 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 

Robert Browning, an English poet, was born at Cam- 
berwell, a suburb of London, in 1812; died at Venice, Italy, 
in 1889. 

He was educated at the London University, and soon 
after, he produced "Paracelsus,'^ his first notable work. 
In 1846 he married Elizabeth Barrett and took up his 
residence in Italy. The titles of some of his principal vol- 
umes of poems are "Men and Women," "The Soul's 
Errand," "The Ring and the Book." Much of Browning's 
poetry is not easily read, for his style is obscure and he 
deals with psychological problems. He is, however, a great 
dramatic poet; "Pippa Passes" is the best example of 
this side of his art. He was also a vigorous writer of lyrics, 
of which the best known are " Herve Riel " and " The Lost 
Leader." "The Pied Piper of Hamelin " is already a 
classic for children. 

William Cullen Bryant was born among the hills of 
western Massachusetts in 1794. The precocity of his genius 
for poetry is the marvel of American literary annals. 

When verv voung he began to write verses and while a bov 
wished to be a poet. He wrote translations from some of the 
Latin poets at ten years of age. Before he was eighteen he 
composed "Thanatopsis," "not only the finest poem which 
had been produced on this continent, but one of the most re- 
markable poems ever produced at so early an age." 

Bryant was educated at Williams College and was ad- 
mitted to the bar in 1815, but he soon gave up the law and 
devoted himself to literature. In 1821 he delivered the 
annual poem at Harvard. This fine poem was entitled 
"The Ages," and not long afterward he published it, to- 

133 



134 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 

gether with "Thanatopsis," "To a AYaterfowl," and a few 
others. Through the influence of friends which this Httle 
volume had won for him, he went to New York and was 
soon appointed editor of the Evening Post, a position he 
held for more than fifty years. 

Bryant was a poet of nature ; he loyed and wrote of the 
forest, the birds and the streams. All his work is of high 
order. He was a perfect master of English and his verse is 
dignified and simple. He died in New York at the age of 
eighty -four, widely known and honored. ^ 

George Gordon, Lord Byron, was born in 1788. He 
was handicapped in early life by a profligate father and a 
foolish, tempestuous mother. When he was eleven years 
old he succeeded to the title and after this he was sent to 
school. As might be expected, he was passionate and eccen- 
tric in disposition and misanthropic in spirit. The pos- 
session of a clubfoot added to his morbid sensitiveness. It 
is small wonder, then, that he failed to be on amiable terms 
with schoolmates or fellowmen. 

In 1809 a satirical poem, '' English Bards and Scotch Re- 
viewers," appeared anonymously. It satirized those critics 
who had previously reviewed Byron's " Hours of Idleness," 
his first volume of verse. So immediatelv successful was 
the anonymous attack, that a second edition was pub- 
lished with Byron's name attached. The same year the 
young poet left England for the continent, where he re- 
mained about two years. His wanderings are recorded in 
" Childe Harold's Pilgrimage " whose closing lines form the 
"Apostrophe to the Ocean." 

Byron's domestic life was unhappy, and such scandals 
about him were rife that he expatriated himself, spending 
much time in Italy. Here his radical satirical poem, " Don 
Juan," was produced. He became much interested in 
Greece's struggle for independence and in 1823 he volun- 
teered in the cause. While in camp he died from fever, 
April, 1824. 

His poetry is spirited, free and unconventional, fre- 
quently misanthropic and cynical. He exerted for a time 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 135 

much influence on thought and style, both in England and 
on the continent. 

Lewis Carroll is the pen name of the Rev. Charles L. 
Dodgson, who was for many years a mathematical lecturer 
in Oxford University. Mr. Dodgson was born in 1833 and 
was educated for the ministry. He, is well known as the 
writer of nonsense verses. His wonder stories, "Through 
the Looking-glass" and "Alice in Wonderland," are 
among the best fairy stories in our language. He died in 
1898. 

Ralph Waldo Emerson, an American philosopher and 
poet, was born in Boston, May 25, 1803, and died at Concord, 
Mass., in 1882. He was descended from a long line of min- 
isters and was destined bv his father to follow the same 
profession. Emerson entered Harvard College at thirteen 
and after graduation taught for several years. In 1827 he 
became pastor of a Unitarian church in Boston where he 
preached for four years. He then resigned his charge and 
devoted the rest of his life to study and literary work. With 
Hawthorne, Thoreau, and others he belonged to the so- 
called " Concord School " of writers which has contributed 
largely to the literature of New England. While Emerson 
wrote poetry of a high order he is best known as an essayist 
and orator. 

Saxe Holm. See Helen Hunt Jackson. 

Oliver Wendell Holmes, one of the most original as 
well as one of the wittiest of American authors, was born in 
Cambridge, Mass., August 29, 1809, and died in 1894. While 
at Harvard College, where he received his education, he 
began to write both prose and poetry, contributing largely 
to the college paper. After he had finished his college course 
he began the study of law but soon turned from this to 
medicine, going to Europe for study and receiving his 
degree in 1836. He then became professor of anatomy in 
Harvard Medical College, remaining in this position for 



136 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 

many years. His first volume of poems was published in 
1836 and contained "The Chambered Nautilus," "Old 
Ironsides," and the "Wonderful One-Hoss Shay." These 
three selections alone serve to give a clear conception of the 
variety of his style. Many of his poems are full of humor 
and some of them present a rare combination of humor 
and pathos. In 1857 he contributed to the Atlantic Monthly 
a series of essays entitled " The Autocrat of the Breakfast 
Table." This was followed by other volumes of essays of 
a similar nature and commonly known as the " Break- 
fast Table Series." For genuine humor, wit, and literary 
finish these are unequalled in English literature. After 
their publication his highest fame was as a writer of prose. 
He wrote novels of which the best known is " Elsie Venner " 
and also wrote and lectured on subjects connected with the 
profession of medicine. Dr. Holmes was one of the renowned 
group of New England writers which included Emerson, 
Longfellow, Whittier, Lowell, Hawthorne and Thoreau. 

Julia Ward Howe, an American poet and philanthropist, 
was born in New York City in 1819. She was an untiring 
worker with both tongue and pen, taking a prominent part 
in the so-called "woman's rights " movement. In 1861 she 
wrote the "Battle Hymn of the Republic," while visiting 
the camp near Washington. Sung to the tune of "John 
Brown " it quickly became popular and remained so 
throughout the Civil War. She died in 1910. 

Helen Hunt Jackson, better known as Helen Hunt, an 
American novelist and poet, was born at Amherst, Mass., 
in 1831 and died in San Francisco in 1885. Her verse is 
characterized by sympathy with all human joy and sorrow 
and deep feeling for the beauty and truth embodied in 
nature. Her best prose works are " A Century of Dishonor " 
and a fine romance of early Spanish and Indian life in Cali- 
fornia entitled "Ramona," in which the rights of the In- 
dians, towards whom she was always compassionate, are 
earnestly championed. She wrote occasionally under the 
pen name of " Saxe Holm." 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 137 

Francis Scott Key, the author of the popular national 
song "The Star-Spangled Banner," was born in Maryland 
in 1779 and died in 1843. He wrote a number of other 
poems but it is chiefly upon this one that his fame rests. 

RuDYARD Kipling, a vigorous and versatile English 
author, was born in Bombay, India, Dec. 3, 1865. He 
was educated in England and was editor of a military jour- 
nal in India, He has travelled extensively and many of his 
short stories picture life as he saw it in many lands. These 
stories and poems have been collected and published in 
several books, chief among which are "Departmental 
Ditties," " Plain Tales from the Hills" and " Soldiers Three." 
In these he has immortalized the British soldiers serving in 
India. Kipling has also written delightfullv for children in 
" The Jungle Book," " The Second Jungle Book" and " Puck 
of Book's Hill." His style is vigorous, fresh and forceful. 
The "Recessional" is his best known poem. Kipling 
married an American woman and has a home in Brattleboro, 
Vt., but spends much of his time in England. 

Andrew^ Lang, a British writer, was born at Selkirk, 
Scotland, in 1844. He was educated at St. x^ndrew's Uni- 
versity and Balliol College, Oxford. He wrote chiefly for 
periodicals, often contributing excellent essays on French 
literature, scientific and mythological subjects. Among 
his books are "Ballads in Blue China," "Helen of Troy," 
"Myth," "Ritual and Religion," "Grass of Parnassus," 
"My Own Fairy Book," "Essays in Little" and "Letters 
to Dead Authors." 

Abraham Lincoln, the sixteenth President of the Ignited 
States, was born in Hardin County, Kentucky, Feb. 12, 
1809, and died at Washington, April 15, 1865. His boyhood 
was passed in poverty and amid hardships and he had no 
advantages for an education. In 1832 the Black Hawk 
War broke out, and Lincoln, then a young man of twenty- 
three, led a company of volunteers against the Indians. 



138 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 

Two years later he was elected to the Illinois legislature. 
With no one to direct him in his study he obtained a meagre 
education through a careful perusal of the few books that 
came into his possession. It is said that after he had become 
prominent in public life and had served a term in Congress, 
feeling the need of a better education, he took up the study 
of geometry, history, literature and German. He kept up 
this study during his leisure hours outside of his profession, 
which was law, until he became absorbed in the anti-slavery 
struggle. He was unsuccessful as candidate for United States 
Senator from Illinois, but, in 1860, was elected President and 
was inaugurated March 4, 1861. When he entered upon the 
duties of this office he was comparatively unknown to a large 
section of the country, and his ability was mistrusted by 
many. It was a period of violent unrest, and the great Civil 
War which followed tested and tried him as no other Presi- 
dent of the United States has been tested and tried. It was 
largely due to his patience, sagacity and judgment that the 
Union was finally saved. 

Lincoln has not generally been classed as a man of letters, 
but his "Inaugural Addresses," "The Emancipation Proc- 
lamation " and the " Gettysburg Speech " are among the 
classics of American literature. 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, an American poet, 
was born at Portland, Maine, in 1807; died at Cambridge, 
Mass., in 1882. He was graduated from Bowdoin Col- 
lege in 1825 in the same class with Nathaniel Hawthorne, 
and the following year received the appointment of Professor 
of Modern Languages in his Alma Mater. He studied three 
years in Europe before taking up his duties. In 1835, hav- 
ing received an appointment in Harvard College, he moved 
to Cambridge and made his home there during the remainder 
of his life. He is, perhaps, the most popular of the Ameri- 
can poets, for the truth and simplicity of his sentiments and 
the gracefid manner in which they are expressed appeal 
to humanitv. In his poems, especially in "Evangeline," 
"Hiawatha" and "The Courtship of Miles Standisli," he 
has done much to immortalize in poetry incidents in Ameri- 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 139 

can history. Among his well-known shorter poems are 
"The Children's Hour," "The Wreck of the Hesperus," 
"The Village Blacksmith" and "Excelsior." 

James Russell Lowell was one of America's most dis- 
tinguished men of letters — poet, essayist, critic. He was 
born at Cambridge, Mass., Feb. 22, 1819, and spent his 
life there, with the exception of years spent in travel and 
study in Europe and the period of his residence abroad as 
American minister to Spain and England. His first literary 
work was poetry. Some of his finest poems are " The Har- 
vard Commemoration Ode," and that written under the Old 
Elm at Cambridge. His series of dialect poems, the " Big- 
low Papers," rank among the best of political satires. In 
direct contrast to these stands his "Vision of Sir Launfal," 
which is unsurpassed in exquisite workmanship and in lofty 
sentiment. Lowell's work shows power of thought and emo- 
tion. His themes are love, patriotism, religion, hope and 
truth. 

In his prose writings Lowell shows keen wit and humor, 
as well as power and strength, and as a critic he holds a 
foremost place. He was for many years connected with 
Harvard LTniversity; at the same time he edited the At- 
lantic Monthly and afterwards the North Amcricayi Revieio. 
Few men have been more thoroughly and proudly iVmerican 
than he, and through his diplomatic life abroad as well as 
through his writings he did much to make American letters 
and culture respected. 

He died Aug. 1, 1891, after a life of more than three- 
score and ten years, recognized everywhere as a man of 
broad culture and of noble character. 

Hamilton Wright Mabie was born at Cold Springs, 
N. Y., in 1845. After graduating from Wil lams College he 
became a journalist and is at present editor of the Outlook 
magazine. His essays are written in graceful and polished 
style and some of the more important are included in the 
volumes entitled "Books and Culture" and "My Study 
Fire." 



140 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 

Thomas Babington Macaulay, poet, essayist, historian, 
was born in 1800. He was an excellent student and won 
special honors at Cambridge. While still in college he be- 
gan writing, his first contribution to The Edinhurgh Review 
appearing in 1825. This was the famous " Essay on Milton." 
His style was distinctive and brilliant and won for him in- 
stant recognition. 

A year later he was admitted to the bar but he never be- 
came noted as a lawyer. He was, however, made president 
of a law commission for India and a member of the 
Council. 

During the time spent in India he wrote the '* Essay on 
Bacon." While there, too, he gained stores of material for 
other essays, namely, the " Essay on Clive " and the '^ Essay 
on Warren Hastings." " The Lays of Ancient Rome " fol- 
lowed the publication of the essays. The " History of 
England," however, is perhaps his best work. Macaulay 's 
place as an historian does not depend, though, on his 
accuracy or his judgment, but on the reality with which he 
pictures past events. He has a happy faculty of making 
the past pass before his reader's eyes, of giving it life and 
color, of making it romantic and attractive. 

In 1857 he was made a peer by Queen Victoria. Not 
long, however, was he to enjoy this honor and reward for 
his services, for two years later he died suddenly as he sat 
at work in his library. This was in London in 1859. He 
has been called the most versatile writer of the nineteenth 
century. 

CiNCiNNATUS Heine Miller, who ^vrote under the name 
of " Joaquin Miller," was born in Wabash District, Ind., in 
1841. He spent his early years in the mining camps of Cali- 
fornia and lived for some years among the Indians of Oregon. 
His first volume of poems was published in England and 
attracted much attention. He afterwards returned to this 
country and lived in Washington and California. Some of 
his books of verse are "Songs of the Sierras," "Songs of 
the Sunlands," "Songs of Italy" and "Collected 
Poems." 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 141 

John Pierpont, an American clergyman and poet, was 
born at Litchfield, Conn., in 1785; died at Medford, Mass., 
in 1866.- He was graduated from Yale in 1804, In 1816 he 
published " The Airs of Palestine." Most of his poems were 
written for special occasions. 

James Whitcomb Riley, an American dialect writer, 
was born at Greenfield, Ind., in 1854. His education was 
carried on irregularly. He was at one time a sign painter 
and after that joined a company of strolling pla^^ers, be- 
coming both actor and author. He made his first ap- 
pearance as a poet in 1882, when some of his verses were 
published in the Indianapolis Journal. He has the gift of 
writing about things of everyday life in an unusual way 
and his quaint poems of country life are full of true humor 
and genuine poetry. 

His books include " The Old Swimmin' Hole, and 'Leven 
More Poems," "Afterwhiles," "An Old Sweetheart of Mine " 
and " Poems Here at Home." 

Sir Walter Scott, a famous Scottish poet, novelist, and 
historian was born at Edinburgh in 1771; died at Abbotts- 
ford in 1832. After studying at the Edinburgh High School 
and University he entered his father's law office and was 
admitted to the bar in 1792. He afterwards abandoned the 
law and devoted himself to literarv work. In 1820 he was 
made a baronet by George IV. " The Lay of the Last Min- 
strel," "Marmion" and "The Lady of the Lake," are his 
best known poems. Among his novels, largelv historical, 
are "Waverlev," "Guy Mannering," "Rob Rov," "Ivan- 
hoe," "Kenilworth," "The Talisman" and "The Heart of 
Midlothian." 

William Shakespeare, the greatest of English drama- 
tists, was born at Stratford-on-x\von in 1564; died there in 
1616.. When twenty- three years of age Shakespeare left 
Stratford for London and soon became connected with the 
Metropolitan theatre as playwright. Shakespeare's dramas 



142 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 

number thirty-seven ; only about a dozen were printed dur- 
ing his Hfetime. The entire plays were published in 1623, 
seven years after his death. 

Although his dramas overshadow his other writings, yet 
Shakespeare holds a high place among the great* English 
poets as a writer of sonnets and other poems. All of his 
work is of high order, but "The Merchant of Venice," 
"Julius Caesar," "As You Like It" and "A Midsummer 
Night's Dream " are perhaps best fitted for young people's 
reading. 

Percy Bysshe Shelley was born in Sussex, England, in 
1792. Even when a child he displayed a remarkable imag- 
inative faculty. He was sensitive, passionate and radical 
in his beliefs, and soon after his entrance at Oxford Uni- 
versity he published a little pamphlet on " The Necessity of 
Atheism." For this he was expelled from the university. 

Two years later he published his first long poem, " Queen 
Mab," followed later by "Alastor, or the Spirit of Solitude," 
and " The Revolt of Islam." The poet then left England for 
Itah\ The opposition of the English people to his views and 
the attitude towards his domestic life were the chief reasons 
for his exile. In Italy were written some of the most beau- 
tiful of his lyrics, among them " To a Skylark." To this 
period, also, belongs his masterpiece, the drama of ''Pro- 
metheus Unbound." 

The death of Keats moved Shelley to write the *' Adonais" 
which is known as one of the most beautiful elegies in 
literature. In 1822 Shelley, returning in his yacht from a 
visit to Leigh Hunt, was drowned during a sudden storm 
off the coast of Italy. 

In delicacy of treatment, in lyrical faculty, in idealism 
and imaginative power, Shelley is perhaps surpassed by 
none and equalled only by Shakespeare and Milton. He 
lacked balance and judgment, however. In his poems is 
often to be found a note of sadness, a pensive melancholy. 

Robert Louis Stevenson, a Scottish novelist, essayist 
and poet, was born at Edinburgh, in 1850; died at Apia, 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES .143 

Samoa, in 1894. He received his education at Cambridge, 
studied law and was admitted to the bar. He began his 
Hterary career by contributing to magazines. In 1879 he 
came to America and crossed the continent in an emigrant 
car. In his prose writings he combines powers of imagina- 
tion and an unsurpassed faculty of telling a story with a 
finished and polished style. His poems of childhood show an 
unerring and sympathetic knowledge of child nature. 

Of his many novels '' Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde " is the 
most widely known. Some of his other works are " Treasure 
Island," "Kidnapped," "Prince Otto," "The Wrecker," 
"Underwoods," ''Across the Plains" and "A Child's Garden 
of Verse." 

Bayard Taylor, an American novelist and poet, was 
born in Kennett Square, near Philadelphia, Pa., in 1825, 
and died in Berlin, Germany, in 1878. He received only a 
high school education but while a young man he travelled 
extensively in Europe, paying his expenses by writing a 
series of sketches for the New York newspapers. These 
were afterward collected under the title "Views Afoot, or 
Europe seen with Knapsack and Staff." Among his novels 
are "Hannah Thurston," "John Godfrey's Fortunes" and 
"The Story of Kennett." His books of poetry, by which he 
is perhaps best known, include "The Masque of the Gods " 
and " Lars, a Pastoral of Norway." His most valuable work 
in verse was a translation of Goethe's "Faust." 

Alfred, Lord Tennyson, a celebrated English poet, 
was born at Somersby, Lincolnshire, in 1809; died at Aid- 
worth House, near Haslemere, Surrey, in 1892. He was 
educated at Trinity College, Cambridge. In 1850 he was 
appointed Poet Laureate of England through Prince Albert's 
admiration for " In Memoriam." He was buried near 
Chaucer in the Poets' Corner, Westminster Abbey. 

Some of his principal poems are "Maud," "Idvlls of the 
King," "Enoch Arden," "The Princess," "Locksley 
Hall." Many of his poems are masterpieces of poetic genius 



144 SELECTIONS FOR MEMORIZING 

and all of them are finished and artistic. This is especially 
true of his lyrics, such as the " Bugle Song " and the " Cradle 
Song." 

William Makepeace Thackeray, a celebrated English 
novelist, was born in Calcutta, India, July 18, 1811, and 
died in London, Dec. 24, 1863. He was sent to England to 
be educated and spent some years in Trinity College, Cam- 
bridge, but never graduated. He studied art in Rome and 
Paris and read law for a time. After the loss of his modest 
fortune he began to devote himself to literature. He gained 
a reputation as a satirist, essayist and writer of verse, and 
in all of his writings he made clever hits at the fashionable 
follies and foibles of the time. For many years he wrote for 
Punch and in 1847 published "Vanity Fair," the first of his 
five great novels. This novel immediately brought him 
fame and placed him in the first rank as a novelist. He re- 
garded " Henry Esmond " as his best work, but many other 
critics prefer "The Newcomes." "The Virginians" deals 
with colonial life in America and gives an excellent picture 
of Washington and Wolfe. 

Henry Van Dyke was born at Germantown, Pa., in 
1852, and was educated at Princeton and at the University of 
Berlin. 

He has held important pastorates in the Presbyterian 
Church and is now connected with Princeton University. 
Aside from writings of a distinctly religious character, he 
has produced a number of poems and short stories. Two 
volumes of the latter, "Little Rivers" and "Fisherman's 
Luck," are a series of charming papers descriptive of the 
author's fishing excursions in picturesque places. 

Walt Whitman, an American poet, was born at West 
Hills, Long Island, May 31, 1819; died at Camden, N. J., 
March 26, 1892. He was educated in the public schools of 
Brooklyn and New York. "Leaves of Grass," published in 
1855, was his first noteworthy work. He wrote poems for 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 145 

periodicals, some of which have been collected into vol- 
umes. Among these are " Drum Taps," " Specimen Days 
and Collect" and "Good-bye, My Fancy." His most 
beautiful poem is "O Captain! My Captain!" written 
after the assassination of Lincoln. 



INDEX BY TITLES 

PAGE 

Angler's Reveille, The . Van Dyke 70 

Apostrophe to the Ocean Byron 117 

Arrow and the Song, The Longfellow 7 

At Morning Stevenson 67 

Autumn Longfellow 9 

Battle Hymn of the Re- 
public Howe 61 

Breathes There a Man 

WITH Soul so Dead . Scott 66 

Bugle Song Tennyson 69 

Chambered Nautilus, The Holmes 4 

Columbus Miller 11 

Concord Hymn ...... Emerson 56 

Farewell! A Long Fare- 
well TO ALL MY Great- 
ness Shakespeare 15 

Finding of the Lyre, The Lowell 10 

Gettysburg Address . . . Lincoln 63 

Herve Riel Browning '35 

HoRATius Macaulay 80 

How They Brought the 

Good News from Ghent 

TO Aix Browning 32 

Incident of the French 

Camp Browning ........ 115 

IvRY Macaulay 42 

Jog on. Jog on Shakespeare 16 

Morning Song, A .... Shakespeare 66 

147 



148. INDEX BY TITLES 

PAGE 

Name of Old Glory, The . Riley 13 

O Captain! My Captain! WMtman 72 

Old Ironsides Holmes 132 

On Books Mabie 64 

On Books Mabie 65 

Paul Revere's Ride . . . Longfellow 52 

Pied Piper of Hajmelin, 

The . Browning 21 

Pocahontas Thackeray 51 

Recessional Kipling 62 

Rhcecus Lowell 105 

• 

Scythe Song Lang 7 

Singing Lea\^s, The . . . Lowell 124 

Sir Galahad Tenn3^son 17 

Skeleton in Armor, The . Longfellow 74 

Song of Clover, A . . . . Jackson ("Saxe Holm") . . 14 

Song of Lo^^3, A Carroll 3 

Song of Marion's Men . . Bryant 58 

Song of the Camp .... Taylor 67 

Spring Longfellow 8 

Star-Spangled Banner, 

The Key 5 

Summer Longfellow 8 

To A Skylark Shelley 119 

Under the Old Elm . . . Lowell Ill 

Under the Willows . . . Lowell 112 

Visit from the Sea, A . . Stevenson 17 

Warren's Address to the 

American Soldiers . . Pierpont 57 

Winter Longfellow 10 



INDEX BY AUTHORS 

PAGE 

Browning, Robert .... Herve Riel 35 

How They Brought the 
Good News from Ghent 

to Aix 32 

Incident of the French Camp 115 

Pied Piper of Hamehn, The 21 

Bryant, William Cullen . Song of Marion's Men . . 58 
Byron, George Gordon, 

Lord Apostrophe to the Ocean . 117 

Carroll, Lewis Song of Love, A 3 

Emerson, Ralph Waldo . Concord Hymn 56 

Holmes, Oliver Wendell . Chambered Nautihis, The . 4 

Old Ironsides 132 

Howe, Julia Ward .... Battle Hymn of the Re- 

pubhc 61 

Jackson, Helen Hunt, 

"Saxe Holm" .... Song of Clover, A . . . . 14 

Key, Francis Scott . . . Star-Spangled Banner, The 5 

Kipling, Rudyard .... Recessional 62 

Lang, Andrew Scythe Song . . -. . , . . 7 

Lincoln, Abraham .... Gettysburg Address 7" . . 63 
Longfellow, Henry Wads- 
worth Arrow and the Song, The . 7 

* Autumn 9 

Paul Revere's Ride .... 52 

Skeleton in Armor, The . . 74 

Spring 8 

Summer 8 

Winter 10 

149 



150 



INDEX BY AUTHORS 



PAGE 



Lowell, James Russell 



Finding of the Lyre, The . 10 

Rhoecus 105 

Singing Leaves, The . . . 124 

Under the Old Elm .... Ill 

Under the Willows .... 112 



Mabie, Hamilton Wright . On Books 

On Books 
Macaulay, Thomas Bab- 

iNGTON Horatius 

Iviy . . 
Miller, Cincinnatus Heine, 

''Joaquin" Columbus 



PiERPONT, John Warren's Address to the 

American Soldiers .... 



Riley, James Whitcomb 

"Saxe Holm" 

Scott, Sir Walter . . . 

Shakespeare; William . 



Shelley, Percy Bysshe . 
Stevenson, Robert Louis 



Name of Old Glory, The 



64 
65 

80 

42 

11 



57 



13 



Taylor, Bayard 

Tennyson, Alfred, Lord . 

Thackeray, William Make- 
peace 

Van Dyke, Henry . . . . 

Whitman, Walt 



See Jackson, Helen Hunt . 
Breathes There a Man with 

Soul so Dead 66 

Farewell! A Long Farewell 

to all my Greatness ... 15 

Jog on. Jog on 16 

Morning Song, A 66 

To a Skylark 119 

At Morning 67 

Visit from the Sea, A . . . 17 

Song of the Camp .... 67 

Bugle Song 69 

Sir Galahad ■ . . 17 



Pocahontas 



51 



Angler's Reveille, The ... 70 
O Captain! My Captam! . 72 



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